Summary:Billy and reader celebrate the first Christmas with their baby.
Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.
The air is thick and stuffy and Billy feels like every breath takes twice as much effort. There’s screaming, crying children at every corner, snot-nosed and red-faced and headache-inducing.
If anyone had explained hell to him like this, he would be thoroughly inclined to believe every word of it and yet Billy finds himself here on a Friday afternoon of his own free will.
His eyes wander across the crowd standing in line to meet a fat old man with a fake beard as the mall keeps playing cheesy Christmas songs, everyone looks positively miserable.
A shiver runs down his spine as his mind wanders to another day at another mall. His body still bears the scar and sometimes, when life gets hectic and he gets too in his head, he can still feel the sharp sting going through his chest.
The soft touch of a hand against his arm shakes him from his grim thoughts and as he turns his head, he’s greeted by a comforting calm that always seems to rest in (Y/N)’s eyes.
She knows of his scars too, traces them every night when she rests in his arms, safe and warm. Sometimes she kisses them. “They are part of you,” she says. “ They are a sign of your strength. You survived and that’s something to be proud of. “
He doesn’t see it that way but he tries to. It’s a nice thought. That despite everything, a shitty dad, an absent mother, a possession, and a fucking spike through the chest, he came out alive and — and life seems to be gentle on him these days. It lets him find good things, good people, and keep them.
Maybe all of the hardships and pain have led him here and maybe they are worth it.
“ You excited to meet Santa? “ (Y/N) chuckles and looks up at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“ So fucking excited, does my face not show it? “
A tut sounds from the woman behind them in line. “There are children here, watch your language. “
There’s a before Billy and an after. Before he was given a second chance and after. Before Billy would’ve replied with a smartass comment, would’ve picked a fight wherever he saw the chance. Fighting was familiar. It was comforting in a way. If he fought other people, his mind would let off and he didn’t have to deal with fighting his own demons.
After Billy sees no point in it. He will fight if he has to, but more than anything else, he wants peace and quiet and to not deal with more shit than he gets on the regular. So he just nods and murmurs a sorry before throwing a smirk at (Y/N) who reciprocates it back to him. For sure, he thinks, they’ll bitch about this lady together later at home.
“ Can you believe it, “ (Y/N) whispers, softly nudging his side. “ There are children here. “
“ I’ll do you one better, “ Billy replies. “ There’s even babies here. “
His eyes lower to her chest where a pair of blue eyes stare back at him from the face of a red-cheeked, smiley little boy. Eyes the same as his. Smile all gums, the two single teeth he has hidden in the back of his mouth.
“You hear that, Jack?” (Y/N) gasps in mock horror and looks down at the 8-month-old strapped to her chest. “There are babies here.”
The little boy lets out one of his cheerful baby laughs, the one that always sends Billy’s heart soaring. When he was younger, Billy promised himself that if he were to ever have a child, there would be no pain and suffering, no wondering if they were good enough, if their father loved them. Every time he sees his own son laugh or smile or even just breathe, an immense sense of happiness and pride fills him. Like everything good in the world lies in the face of his child.
Exactly a year ago he and (Y/N) were standing at this very place watching overworked and stressed-out parents standing in line to take a picture of their kid sitting on Santa’s lap. She was pregnant then, images of their family just a vision on the horizon. A beautiful dream about to come true.
It’s better than he could’ve ever imagined. For so long, Billy felt like there was no place for him in this world. Like all he could do was drift from one disappointment to the next. Heartache to heartache. Trying to stay afloat when anger and pain kept pulling him under. Kept trying to drown him.
Now, he thinks, he is exactly where he’s supposed to be. Maybe if nothing else, he’s meant to be a dad.
Even if he hates the music, the crowds, the other snot-nosed brutes. He loves his son, he loves his girlfriend, he loves spending time with them, making memories with them.
His son deserves to get the life he never had and if that includes cheesy overpriced Mall Santa pictures, Billy would gladly suffer through it with a smile on his face.
“Welcome to Santa’s Workshop. Santa is ready to see you now, what’s this little one’s name?” an overly friendly teenage girl greets them, the bells on her hat and slippers ringing with every move she makes, quickly catching the baby’s attention.
“This is Jack,” (Y/N) answers and takes him from the carrier, holding him up in her arms now.
“Oh hi Jack, are you excited to see Santa?” The teen asks, her voice raised up to a squeaky cheer.
And while Billy doesn’t go looking for trouble anymore and tends to walk away from confrontation these days, he’s still a sarcastic little fuck with a mouth too quick of this brain.
“Eh, we mostly brought him to take the picture of us.” He replies and shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly, earning him a chuckle and a nudge to his side from (Y/N) and a questioning look from the Christmas elf, clearly signaling him that his joke didn’t land with her.
A few seconds later they are led over to meet Santa. The big man sits on a huge red suede chair with gold trimming. Everything is decked out in tinsel and ribbon and garlands. It’s like Hallmark has thrown up in here.
Billy wants to hate it, he really does. Wants to resent every bit of the commercialized crap they put out for desperate parents to relish in.
And yet, when he looks over at his girlfriend holding their child, his child, and sees her smile and the way it matches the one on the baby’s face, he can’t help but feel an unfamiliar warmth spread through his chest.
Maybe love makes you see things differently. Put a different meaning even to the things you can’t stand.
“Does daddy want to be in the picture too?” The elf questions and shakes Billy from his daydream.
Without a second thought, without even a hint of hesitation, he goes to stand by his girl and his baby to take a picture with Santa. If someone had told him years ago that he’d be here, he would have called them crazy.
Every time someone reminds him of the fact that he is a dad now, his heart grows 3 sizes. If there was ever a title Billy was proud to hold, it’s the title of Dad.
This is never something he particularly wished for, never believed he would ever have this, and yet it’s all he could ever ask for.
Sometimes the most wonderful gifts are those you don’t even ask for.
The tree stands tall and proud in the corner of their living room. It is decked out in lights and tinsel and ornaments.
Looking at it transports Billy back to the past. It reminds him of many Christmas trees much like this one. He remembers his dad going out to get it on December 15, always December 15. Mom and he would stay home and watch a Christmas movie and wait for dad to bring the tree so they could decorate it. He loved their tradition. Maybe because it was one of the only times Neil took part in any happy family activities and there was no screaming and throwing plates. Maybe because his mom seemed genuinely at peace then.
Well that went to shit faster than he can remember
When mom left, Neil stopped bothering. There were a few years with no trees and then Susan and Max came along and while with them the trees came back, it was never the same.
This tree in all its kitschy, tinsel-covered glory, brings this feeling of peace and joy back into his heart. Makes him remember the good times.
There’s an ornament on the tree with his mother’s initials on it. She left it behind and for many years it had been stuffed into a box and left in the basement. That was until Billy moved out. It’s one of the few things he owns that belonged to his mom, and while his heart will forever hold some resentment towards her for leaving him behind, she was still his mother and there were good times. Good times he finally wants to remember again.
“He loves the tree,” (Y/N) exclaims as Billy rounds the corner and sits down on the floor next to her and their son. “He’s mesmerized by the lights.”
Billy hands her the mug of hot chocolate before taking a sip of his coffee. No milk but several spoons of sugar. She always makes fun of him for it. He says he likes it sweet, just like his women. It makes her laugh and blush so he’ll never stop saying it.
“You think it’s time for presents?” Billy asks and though their little one has no concept of what that means, he can see the sparkling of excitement and euphoria in (Y/N)’s eyes.
“You ready to see what Santa brought you?” (Y/N) directs the question and the baby who only looks back at his mom with a smile, all gums, no idea what any of her words mean but glad to be involved.
He loves ripping the paper off of the packages and soon enough the 3 of them are surrounded by an ocean of colors and patterns. Swallowed by a wave of wrapping paper.
Billy knows what’s in each of the boxes. When (Y/N) told him she was pregnant he promised himself he’d be that kind of dad. The one who’s involved. The one who knows what their kid is getting for Christmas, who helps buy and wrap the gifts.
“Should’ve just gotten him some rolls of wrapping paper and bows,” (Y/N) jokes once the baby has unwrapped all of the boxes and resorted to playing with the ribbon. They don’t have a lot when it comes to finances. Billy works as a mechanic while (Y/N) splits her time between being a mom and a waitress. Nevertheless, they tried to put as much money aside to make this first Christmas a special one, even if their kid doesn’t know the value of any of these gifts, they do and it is as much for them as it is for Jack.
“You did good. I think he’ll love the toys once he’s done staring at the tree.”
Billy knows that while he’s very vocal about his insecurities when it comes to being a dad, she keeps her fears about being a mom safely hidden inside her chest. They only break out every once in a while. So he tries to take every chance he gets to reassure her of the phenomenal job she’s doing.
“Thank you, baby” she replies and places a soft kiss on his lips. She tastes like hot chocolate and warmth. “I know we said no gifts but uh - I got you a little something”
She pulls a small box from under the tree, cheeks blushed from her confession.
“Well that’s good cause I got something for you too,” he replies and holds out a gift to her in exchange.
“Billy,”she gasps as she pulls the wooden frame from the paper. “I love this!”
It’s a photograph of them 3 at a garden party one of their friends invited them to earlier in the year. Jack is but a few months old, bucket hat and baby sunglasses perched on his head. His parents smiling at each other. Its love captured in a photograph.
“We don’t have a lot of family photos around. Thought maybe we should start. ”
“I love that. I really really do, Billy. And I love you! ”
She grants him another kiss before it’s his turn to unwrap the present.
At first, he’s not even sure what he’s looking at and then he turns it around. It’s a shiny blue Christmas ornament with his initials written on it in delicate calligraphy and the words “world’s best dad” on the other.
“I know you don’t like to talk about it but I see how much your mom’s ornament means to you so I thought maybe you’d like one for you. And you deserve it. You are the world’s best dad - and the world’s best boyfriend.”
It feels like he imagines being struck by lightning feels like. But in a good way. Like a switch has been flipped. Like suddenly everything falls into place right before his very eyes.
This is where he belongs. Where he’s meant to be. If all the hardship and pain have brought him here, he’d live through it all over again.
His next words aren’t planned. He hasn’t thought much about it. He wonders if she has. If so, she hasn’t mentioned it. But it feels right. It feels perfect.
Jack holds in his tiny hands a thin piece of ribbon, shiny and red and perfect.
“Can I have that,” Billy asks the baby, prying the ribbon away from his hands and replacing it with another piece of paper for him to rip up.
“What are you doing?” (Y/N) asks as Billy lifts himself up to one knee.
“I love you. I have loved you from the moment we met. I love you even more since you’ve given me the best present I could’ve ever received. Our baby. You made me a dad and you made me find my place in this world when I felt lost. I’m meant to be here with you and Jack. I’m sorry I don’t have a ring but I’ll get you one, I promise. Will you let me upgrade from best boyfriend to best husband? Will you marry me?”
She doesn’t say yes, not with words, but she doesn’t have to. She says it in many different ways. In the kisses she places all over his face. In the way she nods her head as their lips are connected. In the smile that takes over her lips when he wraps the ribbon around her ring finger.
There’s love in everything she does. There’s a yes in every little thing.
Sometimes the best Christmas gifts are the ones you didn’t even know you wanted. The ones you didn’t ask for but the ones you’ll never give back for anything in the world.
Sometimes the best Christmas gift is the love you receive from the people you love most and the knowledge that you’re right where you’re supposed to be.
This is a dark story. Please be warned. If dark angst isn’t your bag, don’t read it. Take care of your hearts and heads. Oh yeah and a Toni Braxton inspired this story. Go figure. I am very scared to post this. Please be kind.
Fifteen months.
You two had just crossed the one year mark, celebrating by driving to Indianapolis for the Rush concert and having sex in every corner of your Motel 13 room. It had been one of Billy’s favorite weekends since moving to Hawkins and you couldn’t hear The Body Electric without grinning to yourself and feeling tumultuously horny.
In your living room, you thought back to that weekend while fiddling with the yellow gold leaf pendant hanging from the thin necklace chain over your clavicle. It had been a birthday gift from Billy, a week late since he had been grounded on your actual birthday and couldn’t make it out to the bonfire party your best friend threw. Night Court played on the television, but it could have been static. You weren’t paying attention at all, just dragging the pendant from cheek to cheek and going over better memories in your mind. Every now and then, your thoughts would be interrupted with the same question, “Does he care?“
Summary:You meet Billy during summer, and the deal was to have a good time before the season is over, before you go back home. But what if the only thing you’re scared of - love - starts to flourish?
Tomorrow this time, you’ll be in a plane, flying away from California. Away from him.
Billy was supposed to be just a fling, someone to hang around and have a good time with. Looking out the window, you recognize the familiar Camaro even in the darkness. Bily is so much more. You didn’t want to fall, but what could you do? He was like a fever dream in the quiet of the night, and you caught it. The perfect bad boy should be just a new shiny toy with a price.
But he’s so much more. He’s killing you slowly, down there standing next to his car, out the window, always waiting below. Biting your lip, you catch his eyes, the wink he send your way making you smile. Taking a deep breath, and with the usual burning sensation in your stomach, you push the window open, using the ladder you placed next to it to climb down.
It’s always like this. You come back home, just to sneak out again. Devils roll the dice, angel roll their eyes, and there you go, for another night in his arms.
“Come! Come!” He suddenly whisper-yells, and you increase your pace as he does the same, going to the driver’s seat.
“(Y/N)!” You hear your father’s thunder voice, and it makes you rush inside the car, pulling the door close. “What the hell do you think you’re going with this lowlife?”
“Drive!” You tell him, but you’re still speaking when he speeds away, a laugh escaping your lips. Looking back, you see your father taking a few steps forward, gesturing and yelling something you can’t hear.
“He’s gonna be mad,” Billy warns you.
“What doesn’t kill me makes me want you more.” You tell him winking with a bright smile, the adrenaline making you breathe fast. “Where are we going?”
“I wanna show you a special place.” He gives you a look, and you don’t quite understand.
“Why is it special, Billy?” For some reason, your voice comes out a little weak, as you try to push back the only thing that’s in your head.
The sirens, the warning signs you’ve been ignoring until now.
This is the last day.
This is the last time you’ll get to see Billy. Touch him. Kiss him.
You shouldn’t feel like this. It was obvious you’d end up missing him, like you’ll miss Heloise, Nathan, Mike, all the friends you made here. But this is different.
Love wasn’t the point here. Love was the only thing that couldn’t happen. Not like this, not when you’ll have to leave. But summer is a knife, and it cuts to the bone.
“(Y/N)?”
“Huh?” You mutter, looking through the window and wiping the tears away. You didn’t even notice you were crying.
“Hey.” He touches your thigh, but you can’t look at him. “Why are you crying? Wasn’t it good? The time we spent together?”
“Of course.” You’re quick to admit. The time you’re spent with Billy was amazing. And for that same reason, you feel your heart breaking. It feels like you can’t breathe, like there’s a weight on your chest, pressing your lungs. You’re bleeding, but he will be the last to know. “You gave me exactly what I wanted. We had a nice time, no strings attached and-” Clearing your throat, you take a deep breath. “-and I will certainly miss you.”
“I will miss you too. Very much.”
“Yeah. But you’ll find some other girl and then, well, you’ll be just fine.” Pushing his hand away, you keep looking away. “And so will I.” That’s not true. That’s very far from the truth. He stops the car, and by what you can see from the surroundings, it’s a cliff. You can hear the waves crashing down there, violently, as the night takes over, the last traces of the day vanishing.
“(Y/N), please, don’t do this. It’s our last day together.” There’s something in his voice too. Sadness? Maybe. He’s probably a little touched by your state. “Talk to me. Tomorrow morning I’ll leave you one block away from your house and I’ll have to watch you walk away for the last time.” He steps out of the car, pushing the door quite violently.
Gasping, you bite your lip. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. Today was supposed to be amazing. Now it’s ruined, because of you. Maybe you should’ve kept your mouth shut, to have him for one last time, all smirks and laughter. But you don’t want to keep secrets just to keep him. Holding your breath, the anger, mixed with way too many feelings to describe, you get out as well, pushing the door close just as violently as he did. “What do you want me to say?” You suddenly yell, many tears rolling down this time. There’s no way to hide it now, you’re crying like a baby. “That I snuck through the garden gate every night this summer to seal my fate?” Walking over him, you keep your hair away from your face when the wind pushes it against you.
“Only yours?” He snaps back, furrowing his eyebrows. “Stop acting like you’re the only one suffering.”
“Oh, yeah.” Throwing a hand in the air, you pace around, running a hand through your hair. “You just had a good time, Billy. But I? I got used to the shape of your body. You’re eyes, blue. So damn blue, Billy. How am I ever going to look at the ocean again without thinking of you?” The words just flow out, and you’re seeing everything blurry, a lump in your throat making it hard to keep your voice straight. “And I told myself this is cool. That we have no rules in our personal, breakable heaven, bound to break apart. With a goddamn expiration date.”
“You–”
“It was amazing, yes. It was freaking amazing, but it has been a cruel summer with you, Billy Hargrove.” Cutting him off, you move to stand right in front of him, looking up into those eyes you’ll never forget, letting him see your tear-stained face. “I love you.” You scream for whatever it’s worth, the one sentence that has been terrifying you. But it doesn’t matter. You’re leaving anyway, it won’t change anything. Then you step back, look down and once again wipe the tears away. Breathing a little, trying to calm yourself down. “Ain’t that the worst you ever heard?” This last part comes out a whisper, barely heard above the wind.
“Definitely.” He mumbles, and when you look up, he’s grinning.
“What–” You’re cut short by a sudden motion, when he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you against his chest, placing a kiss on your lips.
It tastes salty from all your tears, but you don’t care. You just throw your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss, holding him. Because that’s the last time you’ll do it.
He only pulls away when the air is short, but he keeps you close, secure in his embrace. “Billy, I–”
“Don’t go.” He whispers, his chest vibrating. “Please.”
Shaking your head, you pull away, just enough to look up at him again. “You know I can’t, Billy.”
“Why?” With a hand on your face, you can understand what’s in his eyes now. Desperation, fear… And love. It makes you furrow your eyebrows, wondering if this could really be. If Billy Hargrove could have fallen for you. “You don’t like living with your father, you don’t like living with your mother. You don’t wanna be a lawyer. Stay here, with me. Take that photography course and you’ll have lots of jobs. This place is bursting with tourists, and you’d make enough money to get your life started.”
Everything he says makes you cry again. But this time, it’s because you’re imagining it. Living in California, building an actual home, doing something you love. It’s paradise. “I-it’s a lot of work, Billy. I-I’d have to pay rent and–”
“I’m asking you to move in with me.” He says with a giggle, his forehead touching yours. “I fell in love with you during summer… And all summers end, but I don’t want us to end. I tried so hard not to because I knew you’d leave, but… It happened. You stole my heart and I can’t lose you. I don’t know if someone can die from a lost love but I don’t wanna find out.” Billy speaks his heart, and you’re holding his shirt, like holding on to dear life. “You can leave and go on with an unhappy life, forever scared of love. Or you can stay with me, and let me show you what love truly is. It’s real, and we’ve been living it.”
“Billy…” You beg, closing your eyes, your own heart claiming, begging, pleading for him.
“We’re not going to make your parent’s mistakes. We’ll make it right, you and I. Please, (Y/N).” With a finger under your chin, Billy makes you look at him, so you open your eyes. “Don’t leave me. Don’t throw away a chance of happiness for a miserable life.”
He’s right. Billy is so damn right, and having this, knowing this, that he wants you, that he loves you, you know you can’t do it. You can’t go back. Not when you can stay with the man you love, <who loves you>, in the city you also fell in love with. “All my stuff is packed up.” You mutter, chuckling lightly. “We just need to go get it.”
“A-are you for real?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you going to stay?”
“Yeah!” You jump on him, legs wrapping around his waist. Billy is quick to hold you up, his lips crashing on yours.
And it’s perfect. The wind, the waves, the view of the city down there. And Billy, kissing you, holding you. You wouldn’t change a thing about it.
Soon enough you’re back home, and it’s a mess. As you run upstairs with Billy to get your things, your father says that if you do this, you’ll be dead to him. But you don’t even answer. The only thing you do is hug your stepmother, and whisper in her ear the name of the lover your father had here, and advise her to divorce him. Then, you’re out.
On the next day, in the evening, you’re not in a plane with your heart broken, flying away. You’re in Billy’s arms, watching an awful movie that only makes you laugh. Summer is almost over, but other summers will come. And you want to have Billy for all the seasons.
“Billy.”
“Yes, princess?” He asks, placing a kiss on your shoulder. You’re the little spoon on usual, your back pressed against his chest.
“I think it’s gonna rain later today.”
“…Alright?” He chuckles, and so do you at his confusion. “And what about that?”
“I wanna you to kiss me in the rain.” The mention of the cliche makes you blush, but since you’re looking away, he won’t notice.
“I’m down for it, but…” Billy makes you turn around, thumb and index finger under your chin. “…Only in the rain?”
“When it rains. When it’s sunny.” Turning your body completely towards his, you wrap your arms around his neck. “During the day, and during the night. On every season.”
“Mmm… Sounds like the perfect idea.” And once again, he kisses you. And as it is every time, you feel that familiar, delicious burning sensation in your stomach.
You’re his, and he is yours. Love is real, and this summer was the best summer of your life. Until now, because you’re sure the next ones will be far better.
Summary:You meet Billy during summer, and the deal was to have a good time before the season is over, before you go back home. But what if the only thing you’re scared of - love - starts to flourish?
Billy felt frustrated before. When he couldn’t get the girl he wanted or when he had put way too much effort just to be left hanging.
But this time is different.
He understands perfectly now where the line is draw with her. Where the girl who wants a quick, meaningless relationship ends and where the hopeless romantic starts. That’s why she doesn’t want to get intimate. Well, that’s why she doesn’t want sex. Because it’s too late to question intimacy now. Not after they’ve been sharing the bed every night, not after she has half her wardrobe here. Not after they’ve spent all this time together, on one another, making out until they’re out of breath.
But, for the very first time, Billy isn’t frustrated.
It’s been a long year, a long night. He didn’t get much sleep tonight, looking at her sleeping face on his chest, feeling her soft breathing, and thinking. Billy took a shot of love for the first time, and he’s been trying to keep it together inside.
This was supposed to be an agreement, one he was more than happy to make. (Y/N) caught his attention from the very first moment, and after that, everything pulled him to her. Not only her looks since he’s convinced he has never seen someone so beautiful, but also her voice, her eyes, her smile. How kind she is, the gentle way she touches him, the silly jokes she makes that never fail to make him laugh. She awoke something inside Billy, something he didn’t even know was there.
“Good morning.” Her sleepy voice mutters, hand moving on his bare chest. “I know you’re awake.”
“I am.” He answers, a smile on his lips. “Good morning princess.” Billy moves, pushing her on her back and climbing on top of her. Her smaller frame was just one more thing he liked. God, even her flaws made him like her more. How’s that even possible? “You know what day is today?”
“No…?” (Y/N) mumbles, furrowing her eyebrows and wrapping her arms around his neck.
“My day off. Which means we have the entire day for ourselves.” He says right before kissing her, a soft peck on the lips before he moves to kiss her neck. The girl giggles, hands moving to touch his side.
“I wanna go to the beach.”
“Mhmm…” He only mutters, biting her soft skin.
“Billy! I thought we agreed on no biting.” She makes that cute voice, the one that almost sounds like a little whine.
Billy stops, a smirk on his lips as he looks at her once again. “You’ll ask for it one day.”
“Let’s wait and see.” She sits up, stretching her arms above her head. Billy can see the soft skin of the nape of her neck before her hair hides it from him. “You promised me a beach day, so let’s get our things ready.” (Y/N) stands up, walking to the bathroom.
“You need to stop home.” He forces himself to say, even though he doesn’t want her to go. Both because he starts missing her the moment she’s away and because he’s well aware of how she hates being home. But it’s better this way, better than her father pissing her off.
“I’ll tell dad I went for a morning walk with Heloise.” Her voice comes from the bathroom, and then the water starts running.
“I know, princess. Just stop by and I can pick you up so we can watch the sunset. I don’t want you to get in trouble.” Tension is building up, (Y/N) told him, with the new lover and her stepmother suspicious. She won’t say anything, she doesn’t think she can. Or should. Billy wants her to stay with him all day long, every day. But he has to think about the place she has to go back to.
“Alright.” She agrees, but he can tell by the tone of her voice she’s doing it because she has to, not because she wants to.
But this is just how life is right now, and it’s up to him to look after her even when she doesn’t look after herself.
Billy leaves her a block away from her place, watching as she walks the rest of the way. And his heart, at least half of it, goes with her. Driving back home, he has one hand hanging out the window, hair being messed up by the wind.
He’s struggling to give her up. Billy knows this has an expiration date, that he will lose her, and that’s killing him. Suffocating him. He never fell in love, and it happens to the very girl he knows he can’t have. Not forever, like he wants. Like he needs. Back home, he goes on with his day, waiting to see her again.
Hours later, too late for his taste, he meets her on the same place he left her earlier. She’s wearing a light white dress, see-through, giving away the bikini underneath. (Y/N) leans over him the moment she gets inside the car, placing a kiss on his lips.
The sun is starting to make its way down when they get to their favorite part of the beach. There are a few people around, and when they reach the sand, (Y/N) takes her dress off, pulling it over her head. And Billy can’t help but stare. Not only stare but admire her beauty. She turns around, wind messing her bleach blonde hair, and a smile on her face like she knows what’s up. Like she knows what’s in his head. “Are you going to get rid of that shirt and join me in the water or will I have to rip it off and pull you with me?”
His heart is restless, and there’s a pressure in his chest that grows every passing day. But right now, if she don’t care, then he don’t care. “Right away, princess.” Billy takes his shirt off, leaves it on the sand next to her dress, and starts running to the ocean. She starts running as well, but he reaches her, an arm around her waist as he lifts her up. God, she smells amazing. She looks amazing, tastes amazing. Her sunkissed skin shines on forever, almost blinding him, driving him insane.
They swim for a while, and Billy has her in his arms the whole time. They make out, chat and laugh. And feeling her this close is paradise. Heaven. She’s this and that, and everything in between, a secret word only he knows the meaning. And Billy has no idea how he could go so long without her. And how the hell is he going to live when she’s gone?
And as the night falls, they keep walking through the beach. He took her to the same deck they met for the first time, and they stand there, taking in the moonlight. Holding her hand, his thumb caresses her soft skin. “Same routine today?” (Y/N) asks, looking at him.
“I’ll be waiting below.” He answers, lost in the stars of her eyes. Blinded by the light. “I wish you could stay with me longer.” The words come out, as a hand cups her cheek.
“We already spend all the time we can together.” The girl giggles, closing her eyes under his touch.
“I know. But it’s not enough.” He admits, sighing.
“I’m sorry.” She whispers, arms encircling his midsection, her head on his chest. “We still have time.”
“We do.” But not too much. He’s counting down the days, waiting for the heartbreak. Him, who broke way too many hearts, will have his broken for the first time. Billy wants an endless summer, asking as he gets to spend it with her. Maybe if he prays hard enough… Maybe.
Summary:You meet Billy during summer, and the deal was to have a good time before the season is over, before you go back home. But what if the only thing you’re scared of - love - starts to flourish?
Billy felt frustrated before. When he couldn’t get the girl he wanted or when he had put way too much effort just to be left hanging.
But this time is different.
He understands perfectly now where the line is draw with her. Where the girl who wants a quick, meaningless relationship ends and where the hopeless romantic starts. That’s why she doesn’t want to get intimate. Well, that’s why she doesn’t want sex. Because it’s too late to question intimacy now. Not after they’ve been sharing the bed every night, not after she has half her wardrobe here. Not after they’ve spent all this time together, on one another, making out until they’re out of breath.
But, for the very first time, Billy isn’t frustrated.
It’s been a long year, a long night. He didn’t get much sleep tonight, looking at her sleeping face on his chest, feeling her soft breathing, and thinking. Billy took a shot of love for the first time, and he’s been trying to keep it together inside.
This was supposed to be an agreement, one he was more than happy to make. (Y/N) caught his attention from the very first moment, and after that, everything pulled him to her. Not only her looks since he’s convinced he has never seen someone so beautiful, but also her voice, her eyes, her smile. How kind she is, the gentle way she touches him, the silly jokes she makes that never fail to make him laugh. She awoke something inside Billy, something he didn’t even know was there.
“Good morning.” Her sleepy voice mutters, hand moving on his bare chest. “I know you’re awake.”
“I am.” He answers, a smile on his lips. “Good morning princess.” Billy moves, pushing her on her back and climbing on top of her. Her smaller frame was just one more thing he liked. God, even her flaws made him like her more. How’s that even possible? “You know what day is today?”
“No…?” (Y/N) mumbles, furrowing her eyebrows and wrapping her arms around his neck.
“My day off. Which means we have the entire day for ourselves.” He says right before kissing her, a soft peck on the lips before he moves to kiss her neck. The girl giggles, hands moving to touch his side.
“I wanna go to the beach.”
“Mhmm…” He only mutters, biting her soft skin.
“Billy! I thought we agreed on no biting.” She makes that cute voice, the one that almost sounds like a little whine.
Billy stops, a smirk on his lips as he looks at her once again. “You’ll ask for it one day.”
“Let’s wait and see.” She sits up, stretching her arms above her head. Billy can see the soft skin of the nape of her neck before her hair hides it from him. “You promised me a beach day, so let’s get our things ready.” (Y/N) stands up, walking to the bathroom.
“You need to stop home.” He forces himself to say, even though he doesn’t want her to go. Both because he starts missing her the moment she’s away and because he’s well aware of how she hates being home. But it’s better this way, better than her father pissing her off.
“I’ll tell dad I went for a morning walk with Heloise.” Her voice comes from the bathroom, and then the water starts running.
“I know, princess. Just stop by and I can pick you up so we can watch the sunset. I don’t want you to get in trouble.” Tension is building up, (Y/N) told him, with the new lover and her stepmother suspicious. She won’t say anything, she doesn’t think she can. Or should. Billy wants her to stay with him all day long, every day. But he has to think about the place she has to go back to.
“Alright.” She agrees, but he can tell by the tone of her voice she’s doing it because she has to, not because she wants to.
But this is just how life is right now, and it’s up to him to look after her even when she doesn’t look after herself.
Billy leaves her a block away from her place, watching as she walks the rest of the way. And his heart, at least half of it, goes with her. Driving back home, he has one hand hanging out the window, hair being messed up by the wind.
He’s struggling to give her up. Billy knows this has an expiration date, that he will lose her, and that’s killing him. Suffocating him. He never fell in love, and it happens to the very girl he knows he can’t have. Not forever, like he wants. Like he needs. Back home, he goes on with his day, waiting to see her again.
Hours later, too late for his taste, he meets her on the same place he left her earlier. She’s wearing a light white dress, see-through, giving away the bikini underneath. (Y/N) leans over him the moment she gets inside the car, placing a kiss on his lips.
The sun is starting to make its way down when they get to their favorite part of the beach. There are a few people around, and when they reach the sand, (Y/N) takes her dress off, pulling it over her head. And Billy can’t help but stare. Not only stare but admire her beauty. She turns around, wind messing her bleach blonde hair, and a smile on her face like she knows what’s up. Like she knows what’s in his head. “Are you going to get rid of that shirt and join me in the water or will I have to rip it off and pull you with me?”
His heart is restless, and there’s a pressure in his chest that grows every passing day. But right now, if she don’t care, then he don’t care. “Right away, princess.” Billy takes his shirt off, leaves it on the sand next to her dress, and starts running to the ocean. She starts running as well, but he reaches her, an arm around her waist as he lifts her up. God, she smells amazing. She looks amazing, tastes amazing. Her sunkissed skin shines on forever, almost blinding him, driving him insane.
They swim for a while, and Billy has her in his arms the whole time. They make out, chat and laugh. And feeling her this close is paradise. Heaven. She’s this and that, and everything in between, a secret word only he knows the meaning. And Billy has no idea how he could go so long without her. And how the hell is he going to live when she’s gone?
And as the night falls, they keep walking through the beach. He took her to the same deck they met for the first time, and they stand there, taking in the moonlight. Holding her hand, his thumb caresses her soft skin. “Same routine today?” (Y/N) asks, looking at him.
“I’ll be waiting below.” He answers, lost in the stars of her eyes. Blinded by the light. “I wish you could stay with me longer.” The words come out, as a hand cups her cheek.
“We already spend all the time we can together.” The girl giggles, closing her eyes under his touch.
“I know. But it’s not enough.” He admits, sighing.
“I’m sorry.” She whispers, arms encircling his midsection, her head on his chest. “We still have time.”
“We do.” But not too much. He’s counting down the days, waiting for the heartbreak. Him, who broke way too many hearts, will have his broken for the first time. Billy wants an endless summer, asking as he gets to spend it with her. Maybe if he prays hard enough… Maybe.
He had never been a big fan of red heads, especially since the shithead monkey came along, but he thought that color was hers and hers alone. It drove him crazy.
Ahuge thanks to @stevesscoopsand@pedropoop for editing and offering some awesome advice!!!!! This is the first time I’ve posted anything I’ve written in years so please let me know what you think! More to come soon…
Man. It really pissed him off. Like it really pissed him off.
It was just so fucking annoying. How could she sit there like for hours? Sit there and read in that dumb shit that no one ever went into.
Better yet, how did she get paid to sit there for hours on end, barely moving other than to turn her page and take a sip out of the same mug she used every day? What a fucking loser, Billy thought to himself as he took a drag of his cigarette. It infuriated him, the way she sat there staring at books and listening to music through her Walkman. It’s probably that classical shit the nerds listen to, he mused with an acid laugh. It’s goddamn pathetic.
Billy’s pink lips pursed around a cigarette as he took a long drag. A look of complete distaste etched onto his slightly tanned face as he watched the oblivious girl from his bright blue Camaro. It had become an almost masochistic ritual for him as he sat, parked outside the town arcade waiting for the pet monkey he never wanted.
Max, the aforementioned monkey, had practically become obsessed with the arcade since moving to the shithole town of Hawkins, Indiana. So, every day after they were done with their respective school days, Billy was stuck taking her to and from the cesspool of middle school nerds. And since Max always found a way to be late, Billy had to wait in his Camaro with nothing better to do than watch the inhabitants of Hawkins.
The first few days consisted of him flicking his Zippo lighter open and closed as he openly ogled what the women of the town had to offer. With his curly blonde hair, ocean blue eyes, and a bad attitude, the women of the town happily let him look at whatever he wanted. Most guys would have gotten told off for such behavior, but Billy knew from the moment he laid eyes on Buttfuck, Indiana he would have it wrapped around his finger.
Eventually though, he grew tired of the “scenery” Hawkins had to offer. His cerulean blue eyes darted between the few other stores that lined the street until they settled on a girl with red hair, so dark it almost seemed purple.
She was sitting behind a counter on a stool that was clearly not made for comfort. One arm was supporting the weight of her head on the counter, while her other hand rested of the page of whatever book she was reading, poised to turn to the next. Billy couldn’t see what the book was, but he could tell by the thickness it had to be an exceptionally long book.
Licking his lips, his blue eyes combed over all that he could see. Her deep red hair was tossed to the side of her body that was resting on the counter, so he could see her face. It wasn’t anything particularly special, Billy decided. She was pretty pale, but so was everyone in November in the Midwest.
He could not make out much else since he was across the street and then some.
Billy strained his eyes that were covered by a pair of dark sunglasses so that he could see more details. He could tell that she was pretty small in height. The way the oversized turquoise sweater she wore engulfed her body proved that.
He craned his neck to make out some of her lower body but when he couldn’t, a sharp pang of annoyance shot through him. He pushed his sunglasses down his nose slightly to see if it would help his view. It didn’t.
Just as he was about to get out of his car to get a closer look, the passenger door of his prized Camaro opened and shut quickly, making him jump and his sunglasses fall into his lap.
“Fucking shit, Max!” He barked out with a sharp glare in her direction.
She muttered a low apology, gripping her skateboard tightly. “Lost track of time. I won’t do it again.”
Billy looked over at her the redhead in his passenger seat, taking a better look at her than he probably ever had. He never realized how different red hair could be, comparing his fake sister to the girl across the street.
Max looked at Billy’s contemplative face. It was a face she had never seen him make and that left her extremely unsettled. “I know you said 5 o-clock sharp, but I couldn’t see the clock,” coming up with any excuse to try to avoid whatever punishment she assumed he was planning.
Billy’s eyes shot to the clock on his dashboard that clearly read 5:50pm. Had he really been staring at that girl in the store for that long? He chanced another glance in her direction to find that she was still in the same position she had been in when he first noticed her.
She must have been completely focused on the book she was reading, completely unaware of the world around her. Billy immediately felt jealousy bubble up inside him towards her for being able to escape reality. Even her ability to sit still for that long of a time made him practically itch for another cigarette.
His hands were constantly on the go. If they weren’t holding a cigarette, they were playing with his lighter, combing through his hair, or tapping to the rhythm of a song, or finding their way onto the curvier parts of a woman’s body.
With a cough to clear his throat, he pushed down any feelings of envy and turned the key in the ignition.
Billy concluded that the girl in the storefront must have been a pretty big fucking loser to like books so much as he drove past the almost empty store.
But there he sat, months later, staring at the book worm with an oddly strong amount of contempt even for Billy. It had never taken much to get him to dislike a person, but this girl had never even looked his way. He had gotten closer over the past months, parking further and further away from the arcade and closer to the store.
He could now see that she had freckles dusted across her nose and on the top of her cheeks, a few others dusted over her forehead and chin.
Her eyebrows were a dark brown, making it clear that her purple, red hair was not natural. Green eyes contrasted brightly with her pale skin and artificially colored hair. Billy couldn’t decide how he felt about that. He tried to imagine the girl with a hair color other than that particular shade, but he couldn’t. He had never been a big fan of red heads, especially since the shithead monkey came along, but he thought that color was hers and hers alone. It drove him crazy.
For months he watched this girl read book after book in a store that he still did not know the function of. The name Whitman’s written above the glass windows gave away no hints either.
Billy still didn’t know her name either. At first, he just referred to her in his head as ‘the girl.’ Then ‘the loser.’ Then ‘the book loser.’ Finally, while he was watching hair shine in the strip of sunlight that penetrated the glass that shielded her from himself and the rest of the world, he decided that her name had to be Scarlet. Just like one of the characters in the X-Men comics he used to obsess over as a kid. A fact he would vehemently deny. Only geeky little shits like his stepsister’s new friends read comic books, and he certainly was not one of those. But Scarlet had to be, so the name stuck.
Billy knew that she had to be a complete social outcast. He never saw her outside of the small shop once. Something he found nearly impossible to be true in such a small town. Not to mention she did not look old enough to be out of high school, but he had never seen her in Hawkins High with the rest of the miserable teenagers in the town.
For a short time, he honestly thought Scarlet was a figment of his imagination. However, the theory was disproved when Max’s curiosity got the better of her and asked her stepbrother why he was always staring at the girl in the store. Naturally, Billy responded by shouting something along the lines of, “Stay out of my fucking business” and vague threat of what could happen if she didn’t.
That was the only time Scarlet had even been mentioned outside of his thoughts, but it was enough to assure him he wasn’tschizophrenic.
Billy thought about asking Tommy or Carol about her, but every time he thought about, something stopped him. He didn’t want anyone to think he noticed chicks like her. It really wasn’t his fault for noticing her anyways. With her hair like that, he told himself, she had to be looking for attention.
Though, it seemed that she never got it.
The familiar sound of Max climbing into the passenger seat signaled it was time to go. Without even acknowledging the young girl, he shifted the Camaro harshly into drive and sped towards his father’s house. Thoughts of Scarlet were discarded until the next day.
As Billy Idol blared from his speakers and the engine purred, he thought about what he would wear on his date that night with Michelle B… or was it Michelle R? Either way did not really matter to Billy. As long as he was satisfied by the end of the night and away from his father, he did not give a shit what the girl’s name was.
Unfortunately for him, later on that night Michelle A-Z gave quite a big shit when he moaned the wrong name.
They had been in the back seat of his car, parked on the edge of a field outside of town. She eagerly hopped onto his lap, doing her best to show him that she was better than every other girl in Hawkins. As she ground her hips against his, he moaned in pleasure, only thinking of putting his dick in something wet.
The next thing he knew, he was driving Michelle A-Z home as she went back and forth from screaming and crying about how her name was Michelle….. shit he still couldn’t remember. All he recollected was her saying through sobs that her name was definitely, unmistakably, irrefutably not Scarlet.
guys, take a look at this. i promise, you’ll love it. i know i did!
The curtains over his window barely did anything to keep the Sunday morning glow out of his room. They fluttered in the light breeze that climbed through his window, unobstructed golden light flickering over your fingers as they rose and fell with his chest.
Your fingertips brushed lightly over his skin, which was soft as you’d ever imagined it. His breaths were deep and steady. In… and out. And you let this mesmerise you, almost meditating with the movement.
You brought your knee up to rest on his bare thigh, the slight ache from the night’s activities only satisfying in this afterglow, tilting your body a little to fit tighter against his. His forearm rested beneath your shoulders, propping you up on the pillow beside him, and his breathing was a gentle constant that soothed your mind.
You trailed your gaze over his face. His dark lashes, his sweet lips that devoured you last night. You couldn’t wait to have them on yours again, but you wouldn’t wake him just yet. You turned your face towards his neck, breathing in deeply, gently. His permed locks tapped against your nose as you inhaled and his summery scent swirled in your mind. He simply smelled warm, with the faintest hint of chlorine. And you could swear he still smelled of sand, though the nearest beach was miles away.
You basked in his closeness, his skin against yours, your nose to his jaw and your forehead to his cheek, both your feet caught up in the blanket together.
You could get used to this. A tender smile lifted the corners of your lips and you sighed lightly, contentedly.
The arm beneath your shoulders tensed and the space between his eyebrows creased as he began to stir. His legs stretched out straight and a low groan rumbled in his throat, his head turned towards you. His arm curled around your shoulders a little more securely and he pulled you towards him, burying his nose in your hair.
You looked up at him when he pulled back, ready to greet him. But he didn’t even open his eyes to look at you before he retracted his arm from around you and instead used it to nudge you an inch from where you lay, turning his back to you.
His blue irises reflect the steady stream of moonlight. The night sky and its many little crystals of light peak in on him through the foggy beads of dew and drizzle. The rain patters against glass in a steady melancholic drum; wind rattles the old pipes and wooden bones of the room like a lonesome dog begging to be let in. The windowpanes lead to nature’s own picture show in technicolor, but Billy’s mind wanders to the monochromatic.
To the past. To just that day’s passing period where fifth transitions to sixth. To when the stubborn clouds finally part their curtains to the sun in this drowsy, little northern town. The kids are just as muted in annoyance as the people Billy’s age are in excitement.
Shoes squeak on linoleum, and the hallways are filled with the rhythm of slamming lockers and melodramatic hushes of secret admirers. True love. Broken hearts. Longing…
The muscles of Billy’s cheek pull at the corner of his lip, yet his lips are dry, and the beginning hum of a cackle is yet to be resuscitated in his throat. This is just a residual reaction; Billy knows this somewhere in the back of his mind because it happens from time to time.
He was standing there, in that very hallway, with an arm leaning over a head of long blonde hair that reeked of hairspray and speckled green eyes. Or maybe they were a golden brown. He doesn’t know; the allure in them and the girl’s pretty smile was lost to him. The lockers were hard, and the metal was shooting pins and needles up his arm. Despite the cushion of a jacket, pain bloomed its thorns into the point of his elbow. Yet the pumping vessel beneath his chest bone was receiving the brunt of it.
Because you were there. Just feet away from him. With a dainty hand fiddling with the golden chain of a butterfly necklace—the one Billy had given you just months before—as a large smile was plastered on your face. It was genuine, Billy had noted, because it dared to shatter your complexion. Your wide eyes crinkled. Moisture stuck to your lashes—no, your lips didn’t dare to let go.
You were so happy. You were so goddamn happy, standing there with another man as the center of your focus, as the reflection in your eyes. The gloss of your irises captured better than film technology—how he brushed the stubborn baby hair away from your temple or how his lips spoke of words only you could understand—for it relayed your giggles and other quirks upon the entirety of your features.
Billy’s tortured bone was sending distress signals to his brain, wanting a rest. Billy hadn’t listened to it. He wanted to snap that lanky brunet’s long, slender fingers. The ones that rested on the edge of your scalp were too chicken shit to run and grasp a bit of hair to be brought in for a velvet kiss and never let go until you’re both gasping for air.
Those hands have never worked a day in their life, Billy could tell. Never had to work summers in a humid garage or on somebody’s lawn for some spending money. No, Jimbo would never leave you breathless, but at least you’d be comfortable. Bored, but never worried, nonetheless. He’d give you what Billy never could.
Billy’s fingers mindlessly reach for that same elbow that now thrums in vague feeling. He rubs it, and the callus from handling tools is rough on his skin. God, he wants to laugh. He wants to cackle just as he wanted to cackle in that school hallway. Cackle like he’s got nothing to worry about too, like you meant nothing to him. Cackle because it was just too easy to forget all about you.
Instead, everything blurred, and everything became muffled, and not because he had been engulfed by your plush lips. You didn’t allow Billy the freedom of resuming his affair with this blonde girl, and yet her talking had continued. Going on and on about nail polish—or was it about Madonna’s newest hit? He doesn’t remember what she’d been so interested in, or why stubbornness persisted within her interest in him when Billy was so obviously under another girl’s spell.
You were there. Just a few feet away. With some brunet shorter and thinner than him. Playing with the butterfly necklace Billy had bought for you with the cash he earned, acting as a gardener for his next-door neighbors during spring break. And you were smiling, two months after you had found purple and red hickeys along Billy’s neck and torso for the second time since becoming official. You were now smiling after having screamed and sobbed and pounded on Billy’s bare chest with your fists and watched him turn defensive—listened to him tell you that you didn’t satisfy his needs, you didn’t put out enough, youjust weren’t enough.
You walked out on him and became both deaf and blind. Never answered the incessant ringer of a house phone. Deleted voicemails before Billy’s voice could utter more than two syllables. Donated and hid some of the belongings he left behind in the back of your closet, like his worn Metallica’s Ride the Lightning record. And you never allowed your gaze to fall upon him for more than a couple seconds, no matter how much your eyes stung and begged to stare just a little bit longer.
And, ironically, Billy did too. His grades were worsening from assignments that were lost in the black hole of his backpack. Other girls were not as appealing as before, no matter how attractive they were and continue to be. Billy can pretend sometimes, however; he was pretending to like that blonde and he almost believed he did until you popped up into his peripheral. Most of the time, Billy couldn’t conjure an ounce of care when things weren’t about you. But he’d like to be quite deaf and blind to that fact too.
The hallway light suddenly flickers through the bottom crack of his bedroom door. Socked feet thread not-so-carefully down the wooden flooring. They forget about the creaky panels that tend to disturb the rest of the household. It’s Max, who has a habit of waking in the middle of the night to fill up on a refreshing glass of water. She must have forgotten to leave a filled cup on her bedside table, Billy thinks.
Billy’s throat itches, and he almost calls out to Max for a glass as well. Almost, before the memory of your eyes suck him back into the bottomless pit of nostalgia. Billy finds that he can’t do much these days except loosen up the tension in his muscles, give up the flailing, and just sink. Drown. His throat itches, and yet he will wait until morning, until he’s only got fifteen minutes to spare before the first bell.
A glass clinks as it lands in the metal sink. The same padded feet trek back into the hallway until the light no longer emits a glow beneath his door and another door down the hall clicks close.
For now, he stays, resting on his back, caught up in a web that enslaves him from sleep. He can kick off the blankets that are entangled with his legs, but, just like they don’t provide much warmth these days, it doesn’t do much in lessening the phantom grasp on him.
And the night grows colder as the rain pummels against his window now, and he wonders if, on the other side of town, the rain beats against your bedroom window as well. The moonlight striking on Billy’s face reflects the streams on the glass like tears upon his cheeks, but he cannot produce tears of his own. He simply stares into distance as his brain produces the same haunting images.
Of your smile. Of the silver butterfly necklace—how it still shines from a soft cleanser. Of how you looked exactly the same as the first day Billy met you, only except it wasn’t him who you were sharing intimacy with. It was some other guy who just wouldn’t stop touching you.
Sometimes Billy wishes he could do the simplest things, laugh and cry and get angry—anything to shake off the stranger he has become.
The green cotton of the couch scratched at your cheek while the rest of your bent limbs dug into its lumpy cushions. Your arms were wrapped around the heat of your throbbing midsection, barely paying attention to the laugh track of Three’s Company from the TV screen consume the quietness of your basement. Your knees scoot closer into your hunched form as Jack Tripper placed a lampshade over his head, eliciting another roar from the audience.
It’s one of your favorite scenes from one of your favorite shows, but under the influence of excessive pain you cannot laugh. Even just the colors that filtered through the television screen, draping a glowing blanket where you were huddled, keeps the interest of your blurred gaze longer. Sleep began to pull you into its hypnotizing clutches.
But then a light flickers by the doorway.
The door creaks in retaliation as the figure above the stairs struggles against its stubbornness―it liked to stay open, making harsh contact with the forehead of your caffeine-deprived father in the early mornings. The almost shapeless shadow nears the doorway as boots thud down the wooden steps. Plastic crinkles with every other step.
Safe.
Lazy lids seal shut your fading curiosity, and the pain settles into a low drum. Static laughter shrinks into a hum.
The plastic bag plops onto the ring-stained coffee table, and the material and the contents within sag. It resembles a cartoon frown. Your eyelids flutter open, eyelashes tickling the soft skin below the rims, and the shadow is no longer a shadow.
Calloused digits doused in the outdoor frost of midnight streets land on the plumpness of your cheek. Chills rumble in low vibration throughout your body as his fingers card through your hair, massaging the thumbs in circular motions on your scalp. A soft sigh passes through your lips and you half-way rise, your left shoulder shoving between the couch’s padding.
“Hey,”Billy breathes out.
A couple blinks pass before you realize that Three’s Company is no longer playing, but rather a man in a pressed suit with a file of papers in his hands follows with details about a recent disappearance. A yawn consumes you before speaking, “Where’d you go?”
“You fell asleep on my lap, so I slid out and got you some things,” Billy starts rummaging through the deflated grocery bag. “I know how much those cramps were kicking your ass.”
Reaching forth, your hands join his in their investigation of goods. Red Vine twists. Two cans of Arizona Tea. Family-sized nacho-flavored Doritos. And several of those miscellaneous gummies that the corner store by the movie theater sells for fifty-cents a pack. You didn’t know which snack to dig into first.
“They ran out of that salt-water taffy you like so much, though.”
Burrowing your bare toes in the ruffles of the carpet, you stand and wrap your sore arms around his ribs. Wild wisps from your crown tickle the tip of his nose as he tucked your head beneath his scratchy chin. He was a couple hours overdue for a shave, but that was something to worry about in the morning. Opting to focus on the heating pads of your arms as they slither just a little tighter around him, the cold melts away with the flush of your body.
His head lowers. Yours tips back with your inviting lips on display.
Slightly chapped lips settle over yours, gently grazing over the petal smoothness of yours. Billy’s hands roam to the dip of your waist, pulling you closer to his ministrations. The minty coolness of Billy’s mint chewing habit settles on the expanse of your tongue before you pull away from him for breath. Your content gaze peers up at him.
Scratched up skateboard wheels rolling across the pavement fluttered through the three-inch crack of the front door as Billy sat at the kitchen table. He’ll be met with a stern lecture from a mustached lip if a fly managed to wander into the home like a tourist upon their first breath of the A.C. at a hotel lobby, but Billy had much more important business to intend to. Report cards were just around the corner and with his sweet talking skills, Billy’d convinced the math teacher into giving him a passing grade if he turned in 200 solved problems by the end of the week.
He had seven days. Seven whole days to answer some textbook questions that they’ve gone over in class. It should have been easy, except it wasn’t. Billy was failing the class for a reason. Day five only had two hours left of sunshine, yet Billy’s currently stuck on problem forty-six. With each tick of the clock mounted behind him, his frustration grew.
One of his temples rested in the cup of his left palm as he beat the eraser head on the other before tossing the pencil at the book pages. Words were merging into numbers and numbers were blurring into letters.
Fuck it, he thought, I’ll just ask for a tutor. Yet he knew if he kept this mindset he’d fail, receive a smack across the back of his head, and still wouldn’t seek out a tutor.
He could hear the skateboard’s wheels beat relentlessly against the cracked concrete while Max explained the footwork behind the technique to you, who was sitting on the grass with your white cane last he check. Jealousy picked at the nerves in his forehead as frustration clenched his eyebrows together.
His mind began running off of the book pages and onto the blue sports car in his driveway. Would he have enough for the wash and the wax. Would there be enough leftover for a tip? Billy was an asshole to a lot of things, but he knew what it was liked to be stiffed.
Page 267 was beginning to give him more trouble than it was worth, and those pointers the geek with the lisp in his class gave weren’t helping at all. The rim of one of Susan’s good glasses touched the plush of his bottom lip, the cool water streaming down the well of his parched throat―
A gasp bordering along a yelp burst through the door, clawing its way into his ear. He nearly choked on his drink; some loose water dribbled down his chin.
Pushing out of his chair and the table he was leaning on, not caring if the polished hardwood caught a couple scratches, he was out the front door in five seconds.
Under the shade of his palm, which he planted against his eyebrows to fend off the sun’s brightness, he scanned the situation for clues.
His step-sister’s skateboard lied planted on the other side of the street. Upside down. Wheels spinning lazily under the shade.
The little redheaded runt’s wide eyes met his. Laced with alarm. Her bottom lip wobbled in search for words. Her hands held out below her…toward you, who was slowly lifting yourself by the skin of your elbows.
Raw. Blood beginning to clot around the loose gravel that clung to the wounds.
Billy marched through the grass, nearly tripping over your forgotten cane. “Max, what’d you do?!”
Max took a deep breath, crouching down to you. Her small fingers brushed your palm before helping you to your feet. “I’m sorry.”
As soon as you were back on the safety pads of your feet, Max turned to face her fuming step-brother.”I didn’t mean―”
His hand landed on her slender shoulder, shaking her like an earthquake rattles a brick foundation. “No, of course you didn’t mean to, you little twerp.”
A couple specks of spit landed across her freckled cheeks and nose, prompting her to screw up her face in mild disgust. “She wanted―”
“How many times do I have to tell you? You need to be careful with her, she’s―”
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here, Billy.” You dusted off the debris from your stinging cuts. “I’m blind, not fragile. How many times do I have to tellyou?”
You would have walked off in the direction of his house if only you knew wherever the hell it was. Trying to land that kickflip Max had spent the last half hour explaining to you really messed with your sense of direction, but you weren’t about to tell them that. Your mother didn’t call you a stubborn mule for nothing plus you were getting really sick of Billy thinking you were weak, so you turned around and started stalking off without the aid device your parents payed for.
“Y/n, where are you going?” Billy called after you. “You can’t just leave.”
“Watch me!” You called over your shoulder, continuing your trek into the unknown.
Billy watched you walking down the street, and for once he appreciated living down such a long road miles away from the populated center of town. If it wasn’t one of his neighbors pulling into their cracked driveways after a long 9-to-5 shift or pulling away for a hearty meal at Benny’s Diner, cars rarely ever raced down this street.
Turning to Max, his grip loosened on her shoulder. “Grab your board and get inside.”
Max didn’t argue. Out of the two of them, Max had a more leveled head. She knew she could just check out the damage on your elbows and apologize again once Billy convinced you to come back into their comfy abode. Yanking away from her older step-brother, she ran for her precious skateboard.
“Babe, come on,” Billy tried to reason with you as his long legs neared you. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. You just―”
His warm hand gently latched onto your arm, turning you to face him. “I just what, Billy? You know people here either pity me or they stand feet apart from me like I’m made of glass,”the pressure in the center of your forehead begins to make itself known in the form of a headache, “I just thought things…here…were different.”
“They are, babe.” His chin bounced with quick little nods to reassure you. Sometimes he forgot that you couldn’t see these small actions. “Okay? They are. Max was teaching you one of her stupid tricks, and I just freaked, okay?”
Memories flicker through your mind, sounds and touch alike. When one of the mean girls at school had purposely stuck her foot out in front of you for taking “her man” away, you had bashed your head against a locker and were knocked out cold. You had woken up moments later in Billy’s arms as he carried you to the nurse’s office. You hadn’t bent over and died when the concussion symptoms came at you in full force; you had just taken the standard amount of sick days at home. Not any less and, definitely, not any more.
Other memories came at you, but none were as extreme as the concussion. Yet, with each scrape or nick that life threw at you, Billy reacted like blood was seeping through your clothing at an alarming rate or your lungs were restricting from lack of oxygen. Whatever it was, Billy acted like it was the end of the world for you.
“I didn’t cry when I fell off a tree branch and broke my arm in fourth grade, “ you began the recited verse you’ve told almost every member of your family, “so, I’m not gonna cry because of some stupid scuff marks on my elbows. I’m fine.”
“But, when I was sitting at the kitchen table, loss in thought, I heard it.” His thumbs were stroking the bones of your cheeks. “I heard you fall, Y/n. How was I supposed to know it wasn’t anything worse? When my dad first introduced me to Susan, Max walked around in crutches after a bad skateboard landing snapped her shin bone.”
You sighed, allowing his outlook on the situation widen the scope of your mind. Maybe you were being a little too harsh on him. After all, you couldn’t pour salt to the sizzle off the worry that ate you up inside whenever Billy decided to hang out with one of his pals. It would steal the sleep from you knowing he’d be driving around drunk. Him cradling you to the nurse’s office and you phoning him to make sure he made it to his bedroom safe were two sides of the same coin.
“I’m surprised Susan still lets her ride around on that thing.” His fingers carded through your hair. “I was just scared the same thing might of happened to you, or worse.”
“I understand, Billy.” You spoke so softly, Billy wasn’t entirely sure if it was just one of your breaths. A shuddering gasp forced its way out of your throat as you fought off the burning sensation of tears from the corner of your eyes. “I just get so frustrated sometimes.”
Your face met the soft cotton of his shirt as he brought you into the protection of his arms. “I know, baby,” He kissed the crown of your head. “I’m sorry I overreact sometimes.”
You sniffled a couple times before pulling away from him, “It’s okay.”
His lips brushed against the center of your forehead first then dipped his head to land another on your plump lips, but your fingers caught him. “You still have to apologize to Max first before you can kiss me.”
He took a deep breath. “Deal.”
Your fingers fumbled for his before before successfully latching on. You sighed as your palms melded together like ironworks as Billy led the way to his house.
As you both grew closer a loose thought struck you. “Wait. Don’t you still have homework to do?”
A/N: I hope I did alright in characterizing a blind reader.
After a couple days of trailing after his father and his new little family in their Chevy truck, Billy pulled up in front of the place they’d now be calling home. Billy’s bones ached from sitting for a prolonged period of time and his eyelids had been heavy from the constant blare of the sun, and yet he thought their new humble abode was just about the ugliest thing he’d ever seen. With several window panes bordering a sun parlour and a low roof that suggested the lack of stairs inside, Billy knew it was totally Susan’s style and not something his father would have picked out had it just been him and his teenage son.
The sun parlour was meant for Susan’s obsession with lilies and begonias. There would soon be a wooden bench with flowered cushions just for her to perch on with one of her many melodramatic books about gossip and heartbreak. And with only one story to worry about, Susan would silence her chirps about stupid superstitions about staircases and ladders as if staircases and ladders were the same thing. Yes, he could see it all so clearly.
Billy felt drowsy, but he wasn’t blind. He knew all about the intentions his father had when purchasing this house, beside the new job opportunity, before reaching for the handle of his Camaro. The daintiness of the house, the seclusion of moving across country, was all just a ploy to keep another woman from slipping through his father’s aching embrace. His father couldn’t control Billy’s free spirited mother, so he chased after a much more timid woman who his ex-co-worker cheated on. Susan just so happened to already have a child his father hadn’t known about ‘til it was too late.
Walking up to the front door just a beat behind his father and the two redheads, and just about ready for a twelve-hour nap, Billy somehow picked up on the flutter of lavish curtains of lace and chintz from the house next door.
A peeping neighbor was curious about them, yet his father was much more interested in the plants rooted beneath the neighbor’s window.
“What the hell are those things?”
“I think they’re flowers,” Max threw in her two cents.
With a small, soft turn of her lips, Susan added, “I’m sure they’ll be absolutely beautiful once they bloom.”
Billy will already half-forgotten this exchange of meaningless words meant to fill in the silence and the curious shadow of his new neighbor until…
October 3. Wednesday. 2:31 a.m.
Sweat accumulated on his forehead as Billy awoke with a start. His sheets stuck against hist bare limbs as a hazy memory of an ocean wave toppling over him and a blurred smile clouded his vision. Yet, getting up, he managed to locate his lighter in the strewn jeans he’d worn the day before and place a fresh cigarette between his lips and another behind his ear before sneaking past dad and Susan’s bedroom.
His palms were clammy and chills prickled his arm hair as he stepped out into the night. Standing in the center of the cement path in sleep shorts and a T-shirt, he figured the cigarettes he planned on having would be enough to take his mind off the old breeze and old memories.
Except, he hadn’t planned on having an audience.
Shewas sitting on the steps of the next door porch. Knees jutted out in front of her, arms tucked across her midsection, and eyes already set on him.
Billy only knew a couple things about her. She and her grandparents were his neighbors, she went to school with him, and she flinched…embarrassingly a lot.
Stubbing out his half-burned cigarette, Billy retreated back inside away from the girl, but not before glancing at the plants his father wouldn’t quit pestering everyone about.
Nothing about them had changed. Still green and still very ugly.
October 16. Tuesday. 2:10 a.m.
Days snail by and the weather has remained stagnant, yet again Billy found himself venturing outside before the bird could sing. His mattress had felt too lumpy against the ridges of his spine and the sheets too tampered to find any peace. And there she was again for the fourth time in the past thirteen days, burning holes into the moisture of the patchy lawn before her.
The cold shoulder was a kick to the shin. Billy’d grown accustomed to the thought of having someone to share the cleansing breeze of sorrow they didn’t plan on speaking of. Billy had the idea that he couldn’t be the only one whose demons kept him from snuggling under the covers and drifting off until the alarm clock said so. No one in their right mind found peace in the shadows of orange street lamps without worse occurrences taking place behind doors…or the insides of skulls.
So, he found himself scrounging through the block of ice that’s never been broken through, not even after the welcoming block party. Not when this girl’s “papa” borrowed his father’s lawnmower. Not when Susan and “nana” swapped pot roast recipes. And, definitely not when she came over with a textbook held against her chest to tutor Max at their dining table.
“You make this a habit or something?”
Her delicate eyelids fluttered before she realized Billy’s figure stood in front of her, scuffing his sneakers at the gravel.
His eyes long adjusted to the dim glow of the street lamp, he studied the ribbon struggling to hold on to her hair and the oversized jacket that swallowed her frame. She was still wearing the same outfit from the day before. He only knew because she had been guiding Max through a couple practice problems while he was curling weights to MTV after school.
“You one of them ‘watch the sunrise’ type of gals or something?”
Hooking the stretched sleeves of her sweater over her thumbs, she responded, “Sometimes.”
Within the frame of a breath, Billy had taken a seat beside her on the steps while his hands rested in his pockets, resisting the urge to comment on the leap of her shoulders. It was easy, he managed to wire his lips shut last night when his father had halted her from walking out their front door without the ten dollars she earned from tutoring. Her chin had tucked into her chest with the flicker of her lids before the older Hargrove shoved the bill into her clammy palms.
“Isn’t it kind of early for that?”
She shrugged, failing to convince anyone, even herself, that there wasn’t a care in her bones.
“Do your grandparents know you come out here?” They reminded Billy of his own grandparents, the ones who’d welcomed him with warm biscuits and a spare bed just before his father tore him away from his last shred of contentment.
“Do your parents know you do the same?” she retorted.
“Touché.”
Billy stayed next to her, never brushing against her for fear of sending her running back into the house, for a few moments longer before getting back up.
Glancing down at her, he motioned towards his house. “I should go, you know, before my dad wakes and freaks.”
She nodded twice. “Okay.”
The weight of his shoulders dragged him down just a little bit more as he spared her another glance before shoving his hands in his pockets and trekking back home. He never stayed outside for long, usually only for the span of a burning cigarette or two. Never as long as her, who’d already be out there far before frost greets his skin and who’d remain out there long after he fell back in the abyss of his bed.
And right before he silently jiggled the pestilent doorknob, he noticed that those odd, not-yet-ready, flowers were beginning to crack open like the release of bubbles from clams.
October 18. Thursday. 3:47 a.m.
Another forty-eight hours passed, a full moon encompassed the dark sky and she was still wearing the same loose sweater he’d seen her in outside of fourth period. The flimsy material still threatened to slip off her shoulders and fall in a red pool around her feet. The bags beneath her downcast eyes contrasted further against the skin of her cheeks, yet she agreed to join him on a walk with him without much convincing.
It was just a stroll around their expansive block, and her top lip hardly separated from its thicker sister while twin arms remained crisscrossed around her ribs like Greek ancient pillars. Billy hadn’t expected anything more for she never really made attempt in being friendly with him nor he with her, not when the street lamps sat cold beneath the sun.
So, when her steps came to a close despite only having twenty-seven cement blocks to go before reaching their neighboring homes, muttering, “It’s not you,” Billy stumbled on his own feet. Yet, she fished forth, steadying him with the softness of her palms. and he gave her a simple nod, “I get it.”
The smile didn’t cut into the plush pillows of her cheeks, creating denudation, but the prudent glaze of her pupils softened. “Not a lot of people do.”
The stroll continued in silence, and skipping over his house Billy walked her to her porch. She climbed the three steps, with an appreciative set of eyes, about to twist the knob and enter the shadowed mass of her grandparents’ timely living room, but Billy spoke.
“Can I ask you something?”
Glancing over the red cotton of her shoulder, she responded, “What?”
His foot settled on the first step, “What’s keeping you?”
She fully faced him with her arms down her sides. “What do you mean?”
He ascended those steps with his hands in his pockets, always in his pockets around her vicinity. “You’re always out here. Cold, shivering, instead of in there,” he nodded towards her front door, “warm, maybe with a teddy bear or two. What’s keeping you from your bed?”
“Nothing in there, I love papa and nana.” She shrugged, lowering her head before settling on “It’s complicated.” She sucked in a deep breath between her teeth, “Thanks for walking me home, Billy,” and retreated, softly closing the door on him.
October 22. Monday. 4:03 a.m.
Billy wiped at the beaded moisture on his upper lip before resting his head on his hands. The dream itself vanished upon the flicker of his lids, leaving behind only fragments of images. A dazzling smile. A wave crashing over. But his semi-conscious brain grasped at the emotions the dream had stirred. It was the same thing over and over again.
Shrugging on a crumpled jacket from the floor and slipping on a pair of sneakers, Billy creeped down the hallway towards the front door with ease. After all the interrupted nights in this new house, he knew which floorboards creaked and strained under his stature. Anything that could give him an advantage around his father he took mental notes of.
He didn’t expect to find her sitting on the single step in front of his door or expect to see a bounce in her race to stand on her two feet when he made his appearance. The door softly clicked behind him.
“I was hoping you’d show up.” She spoke gently.
Even her expression wasn’t so pitiful or down in the dumps. Her jaw sat relaxed with parted lips. A sense of wonder had swept every unshed tear in her lashes and the caution that was so natural in her stare. Billy even took notice of her short tennis skirt and the slouch socks that accompanied her white sneakers and how she resembled a cheery teenaged girl for once, like a girl-next-door should be.
“What’s going on?” he asked her, glancing east and west end of the neighborhood.
“I have something to tell you,” she guided a confused Billy down the cement step and across their moist lawns until they stopped in front of the main window of her house. “Look. The poppies finally bloomed.”
And they did. Those ridiculous green bulbs that stuck out like a wallflower among a popular crowd were no longer that but…nice little flowers with graceful necks and blushing petals. Poppies, so that’s what these buggers were all along.
“See? They aren’t so ugly are they?” She glanced up at him with a playful expression. Her lips quirked and an eyebrow raised.
“I never said anything.” His muscular arms crossed against his chest.
A huff of quiet laughter released under her breath. “No, but I’ve heard your dad say a thing or two. He’s not very quiet.”
He stilled and the playful banter isn’t so fun anymore. “You can hear him?”
Her head dropped to her chest and the hair behind her ears fell free. “Sometimes.”
Fists fall to his sides, clenching, and he hides them in his pockets like he usually does around her. And, yet, embarrassment spread a fire across his face. It wasn’t her fault that these houses were so old their walls appeared paper thin. It wasn’t her fault his dad found a reason to express his disappointment in his son every chance he got nor raise his palms with quick ease. Life just freaking sucked sometimes.
But, he didn’t want her thinking he was angry at her or anything because she overheard a scuffle or two. By spending what little time with her after sunlight, he knew her more than any other person at their school did. He knew she couldn’t sleep without demons sinking their claws into her skin and dragging her through mud, like him. They were far past formalities.
Fingers tickled her palm before lacing together with her own, and she realized Billy was holding her hand.
“Poppies, you said?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“They’re,” he cleared imaginary lint from his throat, “nice.”
“I grew them myself,” she offered. “I found out the first bouquet papa gave to nana were poppies.”
“Really?” His soft gaze fell on her.
She nodded once more with a pull at her lip before returning the look.
One day she’d tell him about the anxiousness that gnawed on her scalp as the date of her father’s release draws near. She’d tell him how his own father’s forced acts of kindness reminded her of her own whenever one of his work pals would come over to watch the game. She’d tell him that she’d only been living with her grandparents for a little less than four years. She was originally from out of state, where the clouds didn’t hold the sky hostage. One day she’d tell him that there was a time when her papa and nana only knew what she looked like based on a photo in their album when she was only 13 months old. That her father was sent to prison after Coach Annie spotted a trail of blue smudges trailing towards her shoulder. How a scar from a scolding iron on her thigh was discovered after that.
Billy’s thumb brushed over her cold knuckles once more as he gazed upon the warm hues of the poppies, and she felt that one day she could tell him everything.
A/N: So sorry about the super long wait for this request! >.<
“So, what’s this Cocteau Twins? I hear they’re like all the rage in our English class.”
Billy certainly wasn’t the only boy to glance at the heavy black outlines of her eyes or trace the shape of her soft lips with precise pupils and he certainly wasn’t the first to notice the emptiness beneath the blankness of her painted face, but he didn’t turn away like the rest. He stared straight on behind the guise of disinterest in the same fashion she did. Perhaps she never sought out the interests of her peers after her relationship with Steve, but Billy had come to her.
Billy’s interest in her led him to the wrap around porch, where her stray tears dripped onto the painted wood, if they weren’t mopped up by her sleeve. It led to another victory against his rival, but he found he didn’t care for that if it meant this connection with the dazed girl was shallow. It led to something more beneath the shadows of the night away from the pollutants of other gazes. It led to acceptance into her little bubble.
She was no longer trying to push him away with hollow laughter or with the front of her back.
“It’s written on your notebook,” He pressed for a reciprocation of words, in which the answer he’d been searching for would lie.
Heat rose into the supple of her cheeks, a contrast against the moisture clinging to her lashes, when she realized he was awaiting an answer and not just filling the silence with thoughtless matter. “They’re a band not really known around here,” her hands fidgeted in front of her.
His shoulder was now nearly pressing against hers. “How’d you hear about them then?”
Billy’s half-lidded eyes were soft, and she swore since he’d found her the smile on his lips lacked that usual air of arrogance. “Well,” she started, “I have this penpal from the U.K. and we often trade tapes. Been doing it for a couple years now actually.”
All those trips to the record stores resulted in more questions and an increase of mileage on his tank. One time he had to make 20 miles last a week because of the excessive driving and his allowance only came on Sundays, and that’s if his father deemed he was “good” enough to receive it. Hawkins’ may be the smallest town he’d ever step foot in, but even towards the end of that week he was sure he’d get stuck on the side of that long narrow road out in the woods with a brooding Max.
“You should let me hear them some time,” he said, his elbows resting on the railing and his hands clasped together.
“I don’t think you’ll like them,” she answered honestly.
The both of them turned to face the sliding of the house, toward the chanting of the crowd who was no doubt surrounding the keg stand in the backyard. They couldn’t see anything, but soon the crowd erupted in disappointment. No doubt whoever was trying to take down Billy’s score had lost terribly.
“Come on,” he faced her again, “you got me feeling like some curious cat over this foreign band. Surely I’ll like them better than this party.”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged, still not sure whether to reveal such a part of herself to a guy she just met. The guy being Billy of all people.
“My whip’s got good speakers, ya know.” His grin looked sweeter than all those chocolates from those filled-to-the-brim pillow cases from her childhood.
“I have good speakers at home, too.”
“Surely not Rockford Fosgate good.”
“I’m not gonna stand here and pretend to know that brand, but I’m gonna take a guess and say those speakers are expensive.” She eyed him with a quirk of the brow. “You have rich parents or something?”
Billy’s grin faltered, slipping off his face as he thought of something to say, but eventually settled with: “Not really,” his voice trailed off into a pause.
The ring on his finger shone and he twisted it around. His brain was holding up a giant, red STOP sign, telling him to just shut the fuck up for a second. But, just like he runs red traffic lights and cuts off walking pedestrians, Billy doesn’t listen. For some reason, he trusted the girl beside him for she never seemed the stuck-up type nor the kind to spread gossip like wildfires. He only ever saw her speak to one person, and that was Samantha, another girl who didn’t strike him as some annoyance.
He cleared his throat and stared off into the neighborhood. “Actually, I bought them off a friend with some of my mom’s life insurance money.”
If there was ever one thing Y/n envied of Samantha was her relationship with her parents. They were fun, and though they were square they supported and encouraged Samantha’s expressionism in her choice of clothing and style of hair. On the other hand, it was obvious that Y/n’s parents had been brought up in strict Catholic homes by how her mother tried pushing for floral blouses and corduroy skirts in her wardrobe and how her father would glance her way and sigh. But even then, she knew her parents loved her and she couldn’t imagine any sort of life without her mother or her father.
But that was the boulder she learned that weighed on Billy’s spine.
“Oh my god,” she pressed a palm against her mouth, “I’m so sorry.”
He sniffled once. “Don’t be. It happened a long time ago. So uh,” he blinked a few times, “What do you say?”
She doesn’t know what propelled her to ditch the stupid party to go for a ride in Billy’s infamous Camaro. Maybe it was because of the pity she felt for his childhood without the nurture of a mother. Maybe she just really wanted to get away from Steve and the moment that took place by the staircase and he was her only window. Or, maybe it’s because Billy had shown vulnerability, a side to him she had had doubts of existing.
It didn’t matter. None of it did because the night breeze was swirling through her locks in different shades of blue, she imagined in the fashion of that Van Gogh painting in the school library she really liked. The leather seats she was situated in harbored her warmth as though it were an oven mitt and she the casserole that just got taken out to cool. And, Billy was right. His speakers, playing one of her tapes, only cemented the fantasy.
The streets of Hawkins was just a stage, and she was the star among the many worldly props. And, Billy…
His hair was swept away from his own alluring features, like hers, by the the cooperation of Mother Earth’s natural fan and the rolled-down windows of Billy’s waxed Camaro. Gone was the glint of a glare and the stone of the scowl that marred his complexion, leaving behind a pliable expression just a shy away from a smile.
Cocteau Twins was proving itself to be too gloomy for his tastes, its notes striking something deep and morbidly beautiful in his core, but he didn’t mind it so much. This moment was delivering some of the most tranquility and purity since his mother could wiggle her bare toes in sand as she watched him catch a wave.
With every glance he shared with Y/n, his apathetic classmate, Billy had never seen such life ignite and burn in her. He couldn’t ask for anything closer to heaven.
Dating Billy was like dating one of the many attractive rockstars plastered on the pale walls of your bedroom, except only with slightly less screeching girls and more bloody knuckles. Billy hated when other men, many who are older, would try to propose to you some sort of midnight deal involving money and their hotel rooms and you hated when girls would reach up and twirl bits of his hair or rub the lapels of his jean jacket with their fingers every time you left to get more booze or for a quick bathroom break.
This was the Sunset Strip, Hollywood’s most popular spot for metal musicians and whores with fishnets that run up the expanse of their thighs, and it was a dangerous combo when the two of you were thrown into the mix. Yet, it was a drug that provided cheap thrills, and you and Billy were just teenagers without a whole lot of money lining your pockets. This was your amusement park. This was where parts of your D.N.A laid to rest. Billy’s too.
They say one loses fifty to about a hundred strands a day and you cannot imagine any other area in Los Angeles, other than your home, that’s collected all 54,750 of your fallen hair since the age of fifteen. No other area’s collected your fingerprints as much or your littered cigarettes. No other venue outside of the Whisky A Go-Go have you and Billy carried out most of your sloppy quickies in the public restroom—usually because Billy dragged you after a guitarist or singer couldn’t keep their eyes off you.
Billy’s jealousy has gotten you guys into more trouble than sometimes it’s worth. You’ve gotten kicked out of clubs for smashing beer bottles against the wall just centimeters away from his target, a musician’s most precious asset—his pouty face. You were surprised that you could count all scuffles Billy’s gotten himself into with band members, some from bands you actually enjoyed watching, on one hand.
You still haven’t forgiven him for banning the two of you from ever attending an L.A. Guns gig again.
“This place blows.” Billy slams his glass on the counter in a huff and the bartender gives him a pointed look before shaking his head to himself.
His attitude tonight was wearing down your placid features faster than a clock counted minutes. And, he’s hardly glanced in your direction to at least make it easier for you to hear him among all the other noise that penetrated your ear drums.
He slid off the stool and doesn’t apologize when his shoulder shoved into your chin. Sometimes you swore you could wrap your hands around his throat and strangle him.
All the trouble with security and other patrons you both been in hadn’t just been because of his loose tongue and quick fists. No, you were pretty sure you’ve been in more altercations that involved a split lip or black eye than he had. There were too many bimbos that rubbed you the wrong way and too many guys who thought they had a free pass to grope you just because you sometimes wore mini skirts and low-cut tops.
You knew Billy’s itching mood meant you had to turn down alcohol and provide the role of babysitter because if you didn’t, he’d do something that even he’d regret. But, you’ve never been one with much patience. It’s why you hardly knew the three-year-old stranger who lived under your parents’ roof and called you “sissy” in passing. You didn’t feel all that bad for the cold shoulder she often received, your mother and step-father provided plenty of warmth. They preferred her over you anyway.
“Wait up, jerk!” You called after your boyfriend, though he didn’t slow down. You weren’t doubtful that it was due to him ignoring you over simply just not hearing you.
The effort in teasing your hair and painting your face to near perfection had gone to waste so far, but you didn’t mind. The ever prideful girl in a leather skirt and jean jacket, though that alone couldn’t define you.
The bartender’s glare was glued to you, waiting for the payment of Billy’s whiskey glasses. You searched through your pockets, only finding a couple loose bills and some change of mostly pennies you knew wasn’t not nearly enough to cover the tap. You set it on the counter and chased after Billy’s direction before you could be flagged. Luckily some drunk was hassling the bartender for another serving and you caught the wisps of Billy’s dirty-blond locks leaving through the back exit.
Barging through the door, you found Billy already sucking on a Marlboro—your Marlboro.
You marched through the dirty alley. “Hey, stupid, I could’ve gotten arrested back there! I haven’t any money on me you know!” Just inches away from him, you continued, “He knows my freakin’ face.”
“Tough luck.” The smoke harbored in his mouth was blown into your face.
You swiped at him, knocking his, well, your cigarette on the ground. “I’m so sick of your pointless attitude, Billy. Grow up!”
With a flared nose, Billy scoffed, “Everything’s fuckin’ pointless, babe. Don’t you get it?” The point of his burning finger touched the chilled skin of your chest, pushing you. “You’re pointless.”
“No,” you shook your head, “you don’t mean that.” Focusing on the golden pendant that’s hung around his neck, you could feel the suffocating heat of his blue irises. “Two years can’t just go by and not mean anything,” you mumbled.
“Yeah? Well, it did!” A bit of his spit landed on your cheek as he puffed a breath down your face.
You knew this act almost too well. Billy may be the biggest asshole who ever lived, though you knew you stood in a place well below a pedestal to look down upon him, but whenever this sudden bout of anger was directed at you, you knew it was displaced. Billy had a fishermen’s nest worth of loathing in the pit of his stomach, directed at his father and things that couldn’t be undone from the past.
You’ve spent about 730 days together so far. You weren’t just some cheap date nor an easy lay. Billy’s shown you too much—given you more—to be able to take it back straight out of the blue. Damaged goods. That’s what the two of you were, and he found comfort in the thought that he wasn’t alone.
But, even when your brain knew better, your heart found it difficult to differentiate truth from impulse. And right now, the beating beneath your breast bone was thumping a very low, and foreboding note.
You tongued at the rim of your upper back molar, a nervous habit since preschool, before stating, “I don’t believe you.”
“Just get out of here!” Billy pointed at the dark street as if you hadn’t rode here as his passenger for the millionth time. “Find your own way home.”
“The hell I’m not,” you ground between your teeth. Your palms met his chest a couple times before he snatched your wrists.
But, when you glanced up at him, his face was turned into the deeper end of the alleyway. It’s almost too dark to see, but when you squinted you made out the shape of a figure, presumably a guy. And upon closer inspection, you noticed he was about your age. Maybe younger if going by the pudginess of his cheeks. You’d never seen him around before.
“Hey, asshole, what are you staring at?!” Billy’s voice rang in your ear like the beating of heavy church bells, or worse, thunder.
The lone boy looked stuck in a crossfire, and immediately you knew he was in fact younger by a few years based on the softness of his eyes despite the glow of a cigarette between two fingers. Hell, even at fourteen you’d been smoking for at least a year.
His knee jittered, ready to bounce if Billy proved too big of a menace, but he stood at a dead end. He had no where to go.
“Billy,” you warned, but Billy had already succumbed to the role of a predator. Tense muscle pulled out of your grasp as he stalked towards the wide-eyed deer. “Billy!”
“That’s it! I’m outta here!” But, this was what he wanted. If he couldn’t shoo you away like a pigeon picking at crumbs on a sidewalk, he’d ignore you like a lone cat skittering in the neighborhood.
Making up your mind about hailing a cab and then raiding your step-father’s study to pay for the ride, you’re about to reach the sidewalk when suddenly your blood ran cold. You could recognize the clinking of the sheathing of a pocketknife, you’ve carried the same one you found just hours before the first day of fourth grade on you since. Right now, it fit snug inside your leather boot and it bumped against your ankle with every step.
Which meant Billy somehow hadn’t slipped your knife in his pocket.
Yelping, Billy fell against the bricks and slid down until he reached the littered ground of smokes and shards of glass. The boy had already been running away by the time you’d turned to watch, shoving past you with sweat beads above his brow. Some of the glint of the metal in his hand was obstructed by a thick, red consistency and the steady thumping in your chest stuttered.
Running after the boy was a lost cause, especially since the streets tended to be busier at night than in the daylight. Yet, by the time you knelt beside your fallen boyfriend, his breath released in puffs and the tear of his white T-shirt across his abdomen contained stained blots. The skin beneath raw and wet, but not deep at all.
“Oh, thank God,” the breath swooshed out of your lungs, “It’s just a nick, Billy.”
“Fuck,” he chuckled as he inspected the cut. “Way to go world, just kick me when I’m already down!”
Your shaped eyebrows knitted together. “Jesus, have you gone mad? You just got shanked and you’re laughing?!” Your hand hovered just inches away from his wound. “What should we do?”
While you’d been too worried, the pads of his fingers grazed the slice. He winced. “Tonight, I was supposed to be some pissy prick, not escape death from the hands of some scrawny freak.”
“Does—Does it hurt?!”
“It’s not that bad, actually.” Yet, he grunted, “Little fucker,” under his breath as he got to his feet. You followed his lead, still shaken. “It just stings mostly. I’m more worried about the questions someone might ask when they see this,” he gestured to the gash of his ruined shirt, ”but we gotta clean it, babe.”
“We?” Arms crossed beneath your chest, you remembered the things he’d said just moments ago. “Don’t pretend you didn’t just tell me that I’m pointless! Clean it yourself.”
“Hey. Hey,” Billy reached for your arms, gently uncrossing them until your hands were enveloped in his. Somehow even when it was just above fifty degrees, Billy’s body was a furnace that radiated heat. You think it was the anger he could never quite let go of. “I didn’t mean any of it.”
You sheepishly glanced towards the side with puckered lips before you spoke. “You sure you didn’t mean it?”
“Never mean it.” He kissed at your hairline before pulling away.
“Then, why were you being so mean?” you questioned him, still a little insulted.
He sighed and brought you into his side, almost forgetting about the tenderness of his stomach but your were mindful. You knew this trick of his, tucking your head under his chin to hide the plain emotions he failed to bar behind a careless façade.
“Because of my dad… He—uh,“ his adam’s apple bobbed against your temple. “We’re leaving. He’s moving us to Indiana.”
Just when you thought tonight couldn’t get any worse, Billy dropped a bomb on your head.
A/N: You wanted chaotic and I couldn’t think of a more perfect place than 80’s Sunset Strip. Sorry it’s not 100% what you wanted, the story just seemed to go in this direction.
Stranded. She was left stranded with no one to turn to. Cars and trucks lined the driveway and yard as if no border between cement and grass existed, yet not one was for her. No car, no ride, just a house miles away from her own, emitting muffled bass and loud chatter and full of people who suppress the flickers of their snake tongues behind concerned frowns. With no clue as to her best friend’s whereabouts, the side of the wrap around porch had become her oyster.
The glistening tear tracks on her youthful cheeks hadn’t the chance to dry since Steve sauntered up to her and opened his stupid mouth. Talking to her with an intensity that shouldn’t be for two people who hadn’t spoken in over a year. Looking at her with wide brown hues like he did, like he used to do in the space of his bedroom because his parents were never home and he needed to feel wanted.
Too much. It had been too much for her to handle.
The cold bites at her skin and the railing is a little moist underneath her forearm and elbow and against her ribs, even through the material of her dress. Bringing a coat hadn’t crossed her mind while Samantha held makeup brushes against her face nor when their heels clicked against the pavement on their way to Sam’s grey Volkswagen Golf GTI. But, even now, the icy night was the least of her worries.
As she tried to make Steve take a backseat in her thoughts, she focused her attention on more trivial things like how she’d get the invisible stains out of the sleeve of her black gown. It had become the tissue to the stream of her pain and snot, yet rivulets of sticky makeup still managed to sting her kohl-rimmed eyes. Like how there was no leash designed tight enough to control the shaking of her bottom lip, no pair of scissors tough enough to quiet down the whimpers escaping her. She can only imagine what she must look like. How the mere sight of her was enough to frighten someone into a heart attack.
“Stupid Steve,” she spits out of her smeared lips, yet the words are only rubber bullets compared to his lead ones. Even though Steve had put her through hell, she could never sink to that level and hurt him. “Stupid me.”
“Who burst your bubble?”
A husky voice cuts through her pity party, evaporating her sniffles and tightening the leaky faucet that was her orbs. The muscles from her neck to her slender shoulders tensed up, even though the smokey voice behind her was too masculine to be Steve’s.
She was caught, and now heat rose to her very ears. Her palms wiped whatever wetness was felt on her face before turning to see the person behind her.
Oh.
It wasn’t just some drunk fool on the verge of passing out who had stumbled upon her, but the very one her douchebag ex had been warning her about. He exhaled danger with his cigarette hanging from his lip, his earring sparkling from the moon’s reflection, and his glistening pecs and pack of abs on full display for the thirsty girls to launch at. She had never seen him in the action of sizing up his competition, but she’d heard the very stories from Samantha herself and Billy made Steve look like a saint.
And, then the bullshit Steve was spewing to her back inside Tina’s house hit her like an 18-wheeler. This nicotine addicted, rather quiet asshole who spends half his nights fucking blonde bimbos wasn’t just out here for some much needed smoke break. No, he actually sought herout.
It started off as a small giggle that tickled her throat then stretched out into sputtering cackles that filled her belly until she could no longer breathe.
“Oh, that’s too good!” She wipes at the crinkles in the corners of her eyes once she calmed down.
Billy’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What is?”
She ponders on the question for a moment… and it’s settled. The universe is. The universe was trying to destroy her by trying to gift her with another tool to add to her unwanted collection.
The small smile dribbled down her face and an anchor pulled her dead stare to the floor, at nothing. And, then a spurt of wind brushes through her teased hair. She shuddered, “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
The view of the vehicle-packed neighborhood calls to her again as her shoulders met the support of the porch’s painted spindle with crossed arms. This time, the tears haven’t got a will to taste freedom. This pain was numbing, and she’d been carrying it’s capacity in her bones, it’s weight in her head. It’s a wonder it hadn’t crushed her ligaments and left her a vegetable yet.
The response of her body as it retreated into itself and her character as it shut itself off, was all too familiar to Billy. He’d been watching it—her staring out their English class window—for five days a week since the first day of the new school year.
Billy soon found his place beside her, leather-clad elbows resting on the railing in front of him, but she didn’t stir. Taking another puff of his warm cigarette, he watched the flames as they burned before he cleared his throat and finally asked her the mystery behind the group of words on the cover of her brutalized notebook.
He tapped the ashes loose from the cancer stick. “So, what’s this Cocteau Twins?”
A small intake of breath stilled in her chest, and she turned to look at him with parted lips and eyes as wide as saucers.
Billy then flicked a curl away from toppling over his smooth forehead before leaning in closer to Y/n, “I hear they’re like all the rage in our English class.”
Patrick Hockstetter x Reader / Billy Hargrove x Reader
Word count: 2107
Summary: You thought people exaggerated when they referred to high school. It wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t bad at all until two guys showed up and decided to ruin your life. But, why you?
You moved past Patrick, into your car before driving off.
They were so shocked as you left, in the rearview mirror you still saw them standing in the exact positions.
You just hoped your message finally got to them.
Now
You hit rock bottom.
You felt like there was no escape, you felt like they had won, you weren’t sure what exactly though.
A couple of hours later there was a knock on your door, and since your parents weren’t home you had to go downstairs and open the door.
What you found shocked you beyond belief. There was Patrick and Billy standing right in front of your door, your first instinct was to close the door back on their faces, but before you could do that they both grabbed the door not allowing you to lock them out.
“We are just here to talk,” said Billy as he pushed the door open just a little more so you can see the both of them again.
“Please.” said Patrick almost with a begging voice. You were done with running, you were done with going away and just ignoring them hoping that they would do the same, so you invited both of them inside.
There was an extremely uncomfortable silence between the three of you.
You all sat by the table, you gave everyone a drink.
“Okay, I’ll start.” said Patrick as he turned to you. “I know I have been an asshole about everything. I flirted with you at first because I thought it was fun. You blushed so easily, and it made me go on. But then I realized I liked you. You are not like the other chicks in school. You are smart.”
“And beautiful.” added Billy which made Patrick roll his eyes.
“Look, what we are trying to say is that we both like you and want to be with you. You just have to pick one of us.” finished Patrick.
You really hoped it would never come down to this. That they would just forget you and move on. They didn’t seem the type to be this committed.
“Pick one of you?” you looked at the two of them in front of you. “Both of you are bad for me. Both of you are players, breaking hearts left and right, what kind of a future would I have with any of you?”
“I had a feeling you would say that.” said Billy as he leaned back in his chair. “But I have seen the way you look at us. Both of us. You like us even if we are bad for you as you said.”
“I’m not denying it Billy. But I don’t plan on becoming another name on any of your lists. Another girl out of the many.” they both rolled their eyes at that. “Don’t act like that! I have been to the girl’s bathroom at school! I heard cries and conversations!”
“But you are different, Y/N. Can’t you see that? I have been chasing after you for over a year before Hargrove even arrived.”
That was true. You did have a couple sincere moments with Patrick before you even knew Billy existed. But it didn’t change the fact that you were scared.
Scared to get used and then they would just throw you away. Scared that you’d fall in love and then get your heart broken and be left on the sidewalk.
You sighed. “Give me time. I need time to think.” you looked at the two and then both gave you a nod before standing up, ready to leave. “Give me a week.” you said, you knew you’d need probably months, but this will do. Both boys then left your home, leaving you to think. You were just surprised none made a scene or demanded you to be quicker. Maybe they were not as bad as you thought in the first place. Bad boys, yes, but they weren’t bad to you.
A week should be enough right? It should be plenty of time to think about which one you’d choose.
Right?
Of course not!
The week went by quicker than any week ever! And you didn’t even have time to think!
There were exams, homework, even your mother asked you for your help more than usual, it was as if the entire world knew that you needed peace and quiet so it decided to not give you that.
During the week all you managed to achieve is that Billy told you that he and Patrick will see you in the park near your home where you can announce your decision and you’d have some privacy there.
So, the night before, you didn’t sleep at all.
That Saturday evening was the worst. You didn’t know any better so you just had a pen and paper in your hands, writing pros and cons for both men. You even thought about not picking any of the two.
But you knew that wasn’t an option.
As you started to really think about everything that had happened, you slowly realized just how much you cared for both of them. Something that you realized a couple of weeks ago, yet you decided to ignore.
The morning arrived way too quickly.
At that point your stomach started to hurt, you were more and more nervous by the second.
Then lunch arrived and you couldn’t wait any longer, you headed to the park. You wanted this to be over with.
As you walked, you thought everything over and over again.
You started to become more and more confident about your decision. You finally felt in control again.
It made you happy.
And as you arrived at the park, you found both of them already sitting at the bench you were supposed to meet at.
When they both noticed you, they smiled. Seeing you in that flowy summer dress was something they both really liked. You felt a slight breeze as you walked towards them, letting it move your hair and dress, you smiled.
Yes, you were happy.
And as you arrived you stopped in front of the two of them. You noticed how well-dressed they both were, it made your heart warm and you weren’t nervous anymore.
A/N:Since I could never decide between these two fine men, I decided to write two different endings. One for Billy and another for Patrick. Both will be completely different and I will upload them at the same time, so it might take longer to write than a normal chapter, so apologies for the wait. And seriously thank you all for your support!
So, I’m kinda obsessed with stranger things… I feel like making a series(a LOOONG ass one) where reader is in the story and has powers.
So you know how like we have a few numbers already? Reader could be seven, (since we don’t know that number yet) whereas we already know one, six, eight, 9 and 9.5, And Elleven
The power I have in mind is like a Boogie Man power of sorts, where reader can manipulate shadows and use them to create monsters of fear that can shift and change based on the person being attacked by them into what they fear most. (Kinda like a pennywise power)
I’m kinda leaning towards a slight Billy x Reader thing but if you have any ideas please let me know.
you sat with your back against Billy on his bed. it was a calm Saturday which the two of you had spent in his room. Neill and Susan were on a trip and Max was out with friends so the two of you had the house all to yourself. right now Billy was sitting with his back against his headboard and with your back to his chest.
he watched with admiration as you took a puff from the blunt he just rolled and lit. he had suggested that the two of you should get high and, much to his surprise, you agreed. he had briefly gotten up from his bed to grab his weed and had rolled it into a blunt. it was clear that he had done this before. he had lit it and taken a puff before passing it onto you. after you took a hit yourself you passed it back to Billy and settled further into him. almost immediately the two of you felt the relaxing effect of the drug.
before long the blunt was done and the two of you were high as fuck. from experience you gained at parties you knew that Billy got horny when he is high. this gave you an idea. you turned around and startled his lap. a lazy smirk immediately covered his lips as he knew what you were up to. before he had the chance to do anything though you smashed your lips against his. you both moaned as Billy deepened the kiss, a strong hold on your hips. your hand flew yo his hair and started lightly tugging on it. you started grinding your hips against him as the making out became more intense. he groaned against your lips as he felt his dick grow hard.
pulling away from your lips “we should to this more often” Billy said breathlessly.
“yeah” you said in a breathy voice before kissing him again.
… Being elevens older sibling which was also experimented on. you quickly grow close to the party. through hanging out with them you eventually meet Billy. he takes an interest into you immediately and starts flirting with you. the kids and Steve immediately intervene to make sure that Billy doesn’t get anywhere close to you. Billy being Billy he finds a way to talk to you and through the small conversations you end up falling in love with him.
Billy and you had arrived at the party not too long ago. Tina was once again throwing a Halloween party, and as usual, her house was packed. Billy had convinced you to go with him even though you felt like staying home. Normally you didn’t mind going to parties with him, you actually enjoyed how needy he got when he was drunk. whenever Billy was drunk he couldn’t get enough of you, and you basked in the attention. Of course, you got some dirty looks from some scantily clad jealous girls but you didn’t care. You knew Billy was yours so it didn’t matter what those girls thought of you.
The nature of your relationship with Billy was shrouded with mystery and questions. Sometimes it seemed as if you two were just 2 friends hooking up, other times it seemed as if you two were in a relationship, like right now. Billy was sitting on a couch surrounded by his friends and with you on his lap. Both of you were already tipsy from the beers you had chugged earlier. Billy’s hand rested on your thigh as you played with a lock of his hair and littered his neck with kisses. He knew you were trying to tease him but he made sure not to show how it affected him.
Quite a few songs and a keg stand later Billy and you were once again seated on the couch, you in his lap once again. The both of you were sufficiently drunker than before, and , in result, also hornier than before. Billy’s hand rubbed up and down your thigh, every now and then giving it a slight squeeze. you occupied his other hand, admiring how big it looked compared to yours and thinking about all the things he could do with it to you. whenever Billy wasn’t talking or when the conversation was boring he would kiss up and down you neck, leaving small kisses.
“Hey I got some weed, you guys in?”, said Tilly. This immediately peaked Billy’s interest “Yeah”. He pulled you closer to him and mumbled into you ear “What about you kitten?”. His voice made a shiver run down your spine causing Billy to chuckle. “sure”, you said, turning your head to kiss him. When you looked up you saw some girls shooting you some dirty looks but you were too far away to care. By now Tommy had lit the blunt and passed it to Billy and you. Billy held it out for you so you took a drag, your lips slightly touching the tips of his fingers. As you were blowing out the smoke Billy took a drag himself before passing it onto the next.
Before long the blunt was gone and you were all high. People danced around you as the music played but you didn’t care. you turned around in Billy’s lap so that you were straddling him. “Hey there princess”, he numbleled in his groggy voice, against his lips to yours. “Hey” you giggled before closing the almost non-existing gap between your lips. Billy groaned against your lips as you slipped your tongue inside his mouth, deepening the kiss. One of your hands rested on Billy’s chest, admiring his muscles while the other gently tugged on his locks. Both of you were moaning because of the way Billy moved your hips against his hardening dick. Your jeans rubbed against your clit just right, making you moaned with pleasure. The sounds that you were making spurring Billy on. He started to move your hips faster but you stopped him.
You pulled after from his lips, looking at how they were slightly swollen and red, just like yours probably were. You pressed you forehead against his and said “Let’s go somewhere more private”. Billy didn’t needed to be told twice. After you had gotten of his lap he grabbed your hand and pulled you outside, towards his Camaro.
A/N: I do not claim to, nor do I own Stranger Things; the concept, characters, plot, etc.
At the beginning of the month, Kate’s parents had bought her a refurbished 1970 Dodge Charger. And Billy was green with envy.
Sure, he loved his car. It was kickass. It made him a spectacle, got him tons of babes, and treated him well in many other ways. It wasn’t the kind of car Kate got, it could’ve been a thirty-year-old station wagon, and he still would’ve been jealous.
He was jealous because she didn’t have to put a cent towards it.
She woke up on the day of her driving exam, aced it, and that weekend she had a Charger sitting in the driveway, ready to be used.
Surely, it couldn’t have been cheap, as it was pushing sixteen years old, and it was spotless. Everything looked perfect, from the chrome on the rims, to the stitching on the upholstery, and the minor tinting on the windows.
Her parents even paid for the insurance, and gave her a gas allowance. And footed the bill for upkeep, which is why Billy jumped at the opportunity to change the oil in the car.
Kate had asked him to do it, one: because he needed the money and her parents would pay good; and two: because it would allow him to practice working on his future occupation.
Billy loved cars. And he couldn’t see himself going to school any further than high school, so he had decided that he was going to get into mechanical work. And maybe someday he could open up his own garage, provide for his family.
Do better than his dad did.
Kate’s plan however, was faulty.
“I’m gonna tell them I’m taking it to a garage, you can charge them whatever you want.” She had said, after explaining her genius plan to him.
That was pretty fool-proof. Kate’s parents didn’t give her the time of day on average, so if she presented them with a bill from a mechanic, they wouldn’t even bat an eye.
“You can just do it at the house.” She had shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “I mean, everyone knows we hang in the same group, so if you show up to change my oil, it won’t be thatmuch of a shock.”
She also promised to make Steve swear he wouldn’t snitch about the whole “Billy disguising himself as the garage” bit.
Billy was not confident that Steve would hold up his end of the deal. However, Kate’s confidence in him was enough to make him say yes to the job.
So here he was, bright and early on a Saturday morning, laying underneath Kate’s car, on the freezing cold sidewalk outside of her house.
And changing the oil was already not going well.
For starters, he couldn’t get the cap off, so Kate spent five minutes searching through her father’s tools in the garage for a wrench.
Then, when Billy finally went to use the wrench to twist the cap off, it practically fell off, right onto his face. And in-turn, so did a steady stream of oil.
Kate rushed inside to grab old towels for him to clean up with, but by that time he was already ready to call it quits and go home. But nevertheless, he continued.
He emptied the rest of the old oil into the drip pan, and just as he was about to slide out from underneath the car and start replacing the oil, he realized Kate had bought the incorrect oil.
So Billy, very verybegrudgingly, let Kate drive his car downtown to pick up the right oil. There was no way he was getting in his car covered in oil remnants, so he chose the lesser of two evils, which was letting her drive.
Billy sat with bated breath, inside the garage, trying to keep himself warm by the minuscule space heater, as he waited for her return.
After almost an hour, Kate finally came back, not only with oil, but an entire load of groceries.
Billy jumped up from the floor, feeling heat rise in his chest at the sight of her with her arms full of bags. “You got a whole grocery order Harrington?” He gawked, pointing at the bags in her arms. “Did you at least get the oil?”
She waved the sticky note he had written the correct oil on in her fingers. “Duh!” She snickered, pushing past him and dropping the oil at his feet.
“Well I just had to ask because it looks like you had other things on your mind.” He shook his head, grabbing the oil from the ground.
“When convenience strikes!” She replied, shrugging. “Let me know if you need more help, I’ll be inside.”
Billy rolled his eyes, venturing back out into the brisk air to finally finish the job he had started.
He went to work, pouring the new oil into the container and waiting for it to settle before testing the depth with the dipstick.
Unfortunately for him, when he pulled the dipstick back out, it was clean as could be. “What the fuck?” He practically screamed, confused and frustrated beyond belief.
Then it dawned on him.
Jaw clenched, he squatted down, noticing the oil pan underneath the car, full to the brim with oil.
He had forgotten to put the cap back on the oil container under the car.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” He didscream this time, aggressively shoving the dipstick back into it’s hole.
Fuming, he stormed into the Harrington house, startling Kate as she was putting groceries away. “What the hell!” She gasped, hand over her heart.
“I forgot to put the cap back on under your car!” He shouted back, throwing it onto the island.
Kate frowned, looking between Billy and the cap. “So-“
“Where did you put my keys?” He snapped, cocking his head at her.
She pointed to the counter beside the sink. “Where are you going?”
Billy crossed the room, grabbing his keys from the counter. “I’m going to buy another pint of oil, I’m gonna come back and change it, and then I’m going home, getting a shower and going to bed the rest of the day!”
Before Kate could even speak, Billy was gone.
The oil covering his body had mostly dried by the time he got into the car, and sped (like literally almost twenty miles over the speed limit.) downtown.
At Bradley’s Big Buy, he purchased two of the correct pints of oil, one extra for good measure.
He drove back to the Harrington house, and changed the oil, WITH the cap on the container this time, and almost didn’t go back inside to say goodbye when he was done.
Kate was sat on the couch in the living room, a mug of tea beside her and a movie playing on the television in front of her. She looked away from the screen, eyebrows raising at him. “You finished?” She asked.
Billy nodded, clenching his jaw. “Never ask me to do that again.” He huffed, walking over to the couch and plopping down beside her. “Is your brother home?”
Kate sighed, fighting with a torn edge of the blanket that was draped over her. “Upstairs.”
Billy wanted to scream even more. He had a hell of a morning, and all he wanted to do was spend some time with his girl to make himself feel better, but he couldn’t even do that.
He rolled his eyes. “Then I’d better go-“
“We can still hang tonight if you want.” Kate shrugged, grabbing onto his wrist.
Billy felt his heart soften a bit. “Course we can. I’ll pick you up, same time as usual, okay?” He whispered, standing up and bending down to be face-to-face with her.
“Same time as usual.” She replied, stretching upwards to press a quick kiss to his lips.
Billy relished in the feeling, as it was the only thing that would keep him from reaching his breaking point the rest of his day. Which was almost guaranteed, heading home to Neil.
A/N: I do not claim to, nor do I own Stranger Things; the concept, characters, plot, etc.
Also, Kate is very much lying about where she got her scars from, as this is from Billy’s POV, he doesn’t know.
If you’re wondering the origin of the head scar, refer to S1E5. It isn’t explicitly said, but when she falls, its pretty much on her face. And the origin of the leg scar isS2E6. Thanks Dart.
It was the middle of February, the heat was cranked to max in the Hargrove house, and Kate and Billy were definitely feeling toasty wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets on Billy’s bed. The lamp was still on in the corner of the room, they had forgotten to turn it off earlier.
“Quit moving around.” Billy grumbled, his face half-buried by the pillow tucked under his cheek.
Kate huffed, kicking her legs a bit to agitate him.
He popped one eye open, finally giving her the attention she wanted. “What’s the deal?” He asked, rolling onto his back. “It’s like three in the morning-“
“And I can’t sleep.” She whispered, dramatically falling back against the pillows.
“Why is this my problem?” Billy asked, internally screaming as she sat herself upright against the wall.
“The moment you invited me over, it became a you problem.” She raised her eyebrows, tugging on the blanket.
He sighed, rolling over onto his side again and propping himself up on an elbow. “What do you want me to do about it? Should I call the sandman-“
“Let’s talk.” Kate replied, eyes flitting over the various posters hung on his wall.
“Talk? About what?”
She shrugged, still looking around at the posters.
Billy reached out with his free hand, fingers brushing over the scar on her thigh. He still remembered the night she got it.
Kate’s eyes trailed down to where his fingers touched her skin. “Remember that night?” She asked, keeping her voice low.
Billy nodded.
In hindsight, he wasn’t proud of his actions that night. It was one of the major reasons they had to keep their relationship so hush-hush; He had burned bridges with everyone that was close to Kate, all within the span of a few minutes. Steve, Mike, Lucas, and Max.
Sorry as he was, he didn’t want to forget that night. Or the way Kate looked when he had first arrived at the Byers home.
The moon was shining just right on her, illuminating her features, making her look almost angel-like. Then he idiotic brother had to stick his nose where it didn’t belong and everything went to shit from there.
He also would never forget that first kiss.
Be as it might, a form of bribery to get him to leave, it was as real a “first kiss” in their relationship, as any other first kiss Billy had ever had. Even if then, it didn’t really mean anything.
“That was a hot kiss.” He smiled coyly, knowing this would make Kate fluster. And it did, her cheeks turned pink as she remembered the night too.
“Whatever-“ She rolled her eyes, playing it off. She grabbed his hand from her leg, holding it up and examining it. “Where’d you get those?”
She was talking about the scattered white specks that decorated his hand. “Somebody dared me to break into a car.”
Kate furrowed her eyebrows, looking at him suspiciously.
Specifically, he was at a party, and the DD of his friend group had locked his keys in his car accidentally.
They tried everything they could before reaching the conclusion of breaking the window; Picking the handle lock, using a wire hanger to get into the window, etc.
It went a little something like:
“The only other way I see this happening is if we break the window open.”
“You have insurance right?”
Then Billy said “I’ll just break it with my fist.”
And all his friends looked at him like he had two heads. But all it took was one “Bet you won’t.” For him to punch his fist straight through the glass.
They immediately went to the emergency room.
“You’re serious?” She asked, finally deciding that she believed him.
“Cross my heart.” He nodded, pulling his hand from between her’s and crossing his heart.
His eyes studied her face, coming to rest on a small scar, just at the edge of her hairline on her forehead. “What’s that one from?”
Kate lifted her hand to touch it, trying to remember where it came from. “Freshman year, went to a softball game, got cracked in the head.”
Billy couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of Kate getting obliterated by a softball. “It’s actually not funny because it gave me a concussion and I had to be wheeled out in an ambulance in front of the entire softball game.”
Kate wasn’t being entirely serious, as she spoke her mouth upturned in a smile. Like she couldn’t help but laugh at herself.
“Okay, what about that one?” She asked, leaning forward and tapping his chin, where a small scar was wedged by his lower lip.
“You sure you don’t already know the answer to that one?” He asked, eyes shifting to look out the window.
Kate sighed, fidgeting a bit. “Your dad.” She answered for herself.
“Good old Neil.” Billy nodded. “One of many.”
Kate sighed again, sinking herself back down on the bed and wrapping the blankets around herself. “You ever break any bones?” She asked, laying on her side to face him.
Billy shook his head. “I sprained my wrist though once. Beat some kid up in like fifth grade, and my hand took a beating too.”
“That’s not nice!” Kate gasped, swatting at his arm.
Billy shrugged, rolling over to lay on his back. “You ever break anything? I wouldn’t be surprised, you’re like the most clumsy person I’ve ever met-“
“Oh seriously?” She scoffed, fluffing her pillow. “I’ve broken both of my ankles, three fingers, and almost my back.”
Billy whipped his head around, staring at her in disbelief. “How do you almost break your back?”
“Rope swing and shallow water.” She nodded, clicking her tongue. “I landed on my ass though, not my feet, so I kinda broke my own fall.”
Billy was torn between laughing his ass off at the thought of that scenario playing out in real life, and being genuinely concerned for her wellbeing.
“Maybe you’re right, I am kinda clumsy.” She mumbled, cuddling into his side. “Got any more fun stories to tell me?”
Billy blinked, a small smile appearing on his face. He began to recount the time he flipped off his surfboard and gave himself a black eye from hitting the fin.
And the time he tripped over Max’s Barbie Dreamhouse and not only broke it, but also the handle off his bedroom door. (From running away from his father.)
And the time that he thought it was a good idea to touch freshly-poured tar and it stuck to his hand for a week, and left a nasty scar to boot.
By the time he had finished the third story, he glanced down. Kate was fast asleep, nestled into his chest.
Billy felt warmth rise in him. But whether it was the scalding heat of the room, or the girl asleep on top of him, he would never really know.
Request: Hey, can I request a jealous Billy in school imagine? Like he sees the reader talking to other guys and decides to prove that she’s his?
A/N: Hey guys, here’s another ST request, and after binge watching the entire thing I just had to write it. Keep sending in your requests, I promise I’m working my way through them. Thanks for being so patient the past few weeks, I’m writing way more now due to the extra time I have so hopefully uploads will be regular during the summer.
Like and Reblog! :)
word count: 1200
Billy arrived just as the Bell for lunch rang. He roared the clutch on his Camaro, jut to make it clear that he had arrived, then turned the car off and sat back, filling his lungs with smoke from the cigarette that he had clutched between his lips. The blaring sound of The scorpions caused a group of girls to scowl as they walked past, before clocking who was in the car. “Hey Billy,” One of them simpered, waggling her fingers and slowly batting her eyelashes whilst her friends giggled. Billy gave her a quick upwards nod, but his eyes didn’t linger; instead they scanned the hoards of people that were walking out of Hawkins High in to the watery April sun. He couldn’t see the person he was looking for-he couldn’t see you. He flicked the cigarette, climbed out the car and slammed the door shut, the smack reverberating loudly. As he strutted down towards the school he kept scanning, ignoring the wandering eyes of girls or the scowls of their boyfriends. He saw your friends but you weren’t with them and by this point his patience was starting to fray. He didn’t want to be here any longer than he needed to, instead would rather spend the afternoon smoking with you lying in once of his shirts on his bed. He rounded the corner and saw you by your locker. He couldn’t help but stop for a moment to admire the way your jeans clung tight your skin, his favourite pair because You were transferring books from your bag into your locker, your bag resting on your hip meaning your body arched slightly, something Billy wasn’t used to seeing you do with that amount of clothes on. A couple of people said hi to you as they passed, and you smiled politely and waved, but mostly you were just minding your own business. He was just about to walk up and surprise you, when a voice called “hey Y/N.”
You turned and smiled “Hey Ted.” Ted Fletch walked up, smiling widely. Billy hung back for a moment, anger starting to boil in the pit of his stomach.
“Here let me help you,” Ted grabbed the books from the top of the teetering pile in your hands, to which you nodded gratefully.
“Thanks. What’s up?”
“Our history test for Travis is tomorrow right?”
“Uh huh,” You nodded.
Ted groaned “Brilliant.”
“Guess you should actually look over your notes at some point,” you laughed.
“Or, if you’re free,” Ted moved in s little, his eyes looking you up and down briefly, Causing Billy to have a strong urge to punch him till he bled “We count meet up tonight. You know….to study.”
“Oh…i don’t”
“Hey Baby.” Billy was leaning on the locker behind you, one arm resting against the wall whilst the other was hooked lazily into his pocket You didn’t need to fully turn around to feel his chest against your back, leaning in as he nodded at Ted “Fletch.”
“Billy.” Ted’s smile had gone, replaced by a look of half fear half annoyance as he instinctively took a step away from you. You felt the blush colour your cheek and ducked your head as you tried to stop your heart from pounding loudly against your chest. Billy didn’t notice, still looking at Ted, his eyes flashing sinisterly. ‘I didn’t know you and Y/N knew each other.”
“He was asking me about the history test tomorrow,” You were able to say, just as Ted said “I was just asking Y/N if she wanted to hang out tonight and study.”
‘Oh,” Billy tutted sarcastically ‘Well, it’s a shame cause we’re busy tonight.” Not breaking his eye contact Billy deliberately moved his arm from the locker, slowly trailing his hand down your back until he reached the back pocket of your jeans. With one finger he hooked you into him, his hand sliding down into the pocket, his fingers moving slightly against the material and causing a shiver to shake your legs and hips. You fought to keep your breathing steady so as to not show Billy the effects his touch had. ‘We do?” You asked, turning to look up at Billy’s face, eyebrows raised in a questioning expression. Billy chuckled softly, his tongue swishing across his bottom lip quickly as he leant closer to you “Last night? I said I’d take you to the movies.” he was leaning in closer now, and you were very aware of where you were stood, with people walking past and staring curious. Billy didn’t care though, instead leaning in to drawl “maybe get two seats at the back.” He then hooked his hand around your neck and pulled you in, stopping your gasp of surprise by kissing you in a way that made your head spin. You tried to pull away slightly but with a small bite to your bottom lip you felt your shock subside as he felt your body melt. He hummed softly with pleasure, then pulled away, loving the way your head moved forward so to close the gap again.
“I’m sorry man, I didn’t even realise you two were a thing.” You completely forgotten that Ted was there, and you turned back to him, wiping your lips quickly. Billy kept his hand in your back pocket, snd this time you moved so your arm wrapped around his waist.
“Yup.” Billy smirked. “ We are.” He looked down at you, briefly, and there was a quick flicker of a genuine grin “She’s mine.” But when he looked back at Ted, all there was something threatening about his tone as he said “So if I were you Fletch, I’d stay away from her. Got it?”
Ted swallowed. He nodded quickly then back away until he mixed with the rest of the students that were filling outside. Satisfied, Billy turned to talk to you, expecting some sarcastic comment or a teasing “Hargroveeee.”
He was not expecting the slap. Pain shot through his cheek and his stumbled back slightly, his hand cupping the sensitive skin. “What was that for?” He asked, surprised.
“That’s for being a dick.”
“Is it being a dick if I’m just claiming what’s mine?”
“When you phrase it like that, yea.”
Billy scoffed but even he couldn’t hide the fact that this show of control was extremely attractive. He put his hands on his hips, causing the v of his open shirt to widen and show off more of his collarbone. “You’re really full of surprises aren’t you Sweetheart?”
“Oh trust me,” you smiled “you’d haven’t seen the half of it.”
“Oh really?”At this Billy bit his bottom lip, shook his head, then grabbed you by the waist and started pushing you towards the doors. Your brain flustered but you willingly followed him out the front doors or the school and through the car park towards Billy’s Camaro. Billy’s breathing was heavy as if he’d been running as he kept his hand firmly On your back. You both got into the car and he revved off, the smell of burning tires following you as he shot off down the Hawkins high street.
“Where are we going Billy?”
“We are going back to mine,” Billy’s voice gravelled “and you’re going to show me these surprises.” One hand stayed gripped to the steering but he moved the other to rest on your thigh, and you knew in that moment of the true effect you had on him. His kept his foot low on the gas as the car shot through the town, and by the way you were laughing that what he had said was true. You were his, and he was surprised by how much he loved that.
warnings: kidnapping, trauma! at hawkins lab, violence w/ guns (but no shooting), angst, comfort, strong language,superhuman oc,bad plot probably,set between seasons two and three
prompt: Hi I was wondering if you could write a Billy Hargrove x reader. She has powers like 11 and know each other. One day he sees her handcuffed and led by some men to a van and she has some bruises on her arm so he goes after her.
– I adjusted this because it fit too well with my heaven-sent series to not turn into a fran x billy heaven-sent one-shot.hope that’s okay!
Billy changed the route of his daily morning jog around the same time that he and Fran became…whatever it is they are. Whatever that aching knot in the very pits of his belly means. The first day, he pretended as though he hadn’t gone out of his way to run by the trailer on the edge of the lake. The second, she caught him and offered him coffee. Now, it’s pancakes or cereal or whatever she has on offer that day, and he can never say no. Not to her.
But something’s wrong today. In front of the trailer sit three white vans. Not her father’s, the chief’s. Just…plain, ominous white vans. He slows and yanks off his headphones, sweat dripping down his neck. And then the trailer door swings open, and his heart sinks into his stomach. Fran is being pulled along by a group of neatly dressed men, and her eyes…golden. Round. Filled with fear that can’t mean anything good.
“Hey!” he shouts, but when they spot him, the men only urge her toward the vans quicker. Fran stumbles and strains to get a look at him, and only then does he realise she’s handcuffed. “Fran. What the hell’s going on?”
One of the men holds him back like she’s some sort of celebrity. Or prisoner.
And a part of him already knows, then, or at least can guess what these people would want with Fran. With his Fran. She’s shuddering just like she always does when an episode happens, a speck of blood beneath her nostrils. They know about her powers. They’re trying to take her away.
“Call my dad, Billy,” she begs.
“I’m afraid Hawkins’ chief of police won’t be able to do much this time,” the man yanking her forward drawls. As though he’s enjoying it. It makes Billy sick.
“No. No way. You’re not taking her.” He shoves the human barrier aside and runs for the car, but his arms are pulled back and there are more of them restraining him now.
And then a cold piece of metal presses against his head. A gun. He stops writhing, his blood going cold.
“Let her go.” All he can do is beg, fear a shivering fist around his gut. “You’ve got it wrong. You can’t take her.”
“Just call my dad, Billy,” Fran pleads again, and then her head is lowered and she’s pushed into the back of the van. The last thing he sees before the doors close is that terror contorting her features, and those gold eyes, and the pain he knows she feels when it happens.
A lump forms in Billy’s throat, hatred curling his upper lip, but he doesn’t dare move. What good would he be to her if his brains are splattered across her driveway? She’s right. He needs to get Hopper. “Let her go,” he grounds out anyway. “There’s a mistake here.”
“You won’t tell anybody about this.” The gunman clicks the safety off just to give his message loud and clear. If Billy talks, he dies. “Billy Hargrove, isn’t it? How’s your sister, Maxine?”
That, he hadn’t expected. They know who he is. Know about Max. Probably know where he lives. Jesus. How long have they been watching Fran? To what fucking end?
He can’t even think about that. If he gets angry, he’ll do something stupid like get them both killed, and he can’t let that happen. She needs him strong, steady, something Billy Hargrove has never felt before and certainly doesn’t feel now.
But he’ll do his damn best for her.
“I won’t tell anybody,” he whispers.
“Not even the chief.” The gunman’s finger hovers over the trigger.
Billy shakes his head, defeated. “Not even the chief.”
“Good.” He slaps Billy’s back, the group dispersing back towards the vans. “Glad we could clear that up. You forget about all of this and you won’t have to worry.”
He climbs into the van and slams the door, cool gaze still fixed on Billy. They drive off, leaving Billy in the dust. He watches the van with Fran inside, his lower lip trembling. What the fuck does he do now?
***
He shakes. For the rest of the day, he shakes like a fucking leaf. He goes to school because he knows he’s being watched. Pretends everything is normal; like Fran isn’t gone. He tries not to think about what they might do to her. She’s not normal, maybe not even human, and he realises somewhere along the line that he was wrong. He has seen those vans before, the night that Fran and him found Hopper underground. Those vine things alive, curled around him.
He needs Hopper, and much as he hates it, he does the only thing he can think of. Gets the police’s attention.
If those damn freaks knew anything about him, they’d know he’s had a few run-ins with the law. So he skips fifth period and speeds around town until those damn lights follow him. Callahan takes him into the station as predicted with a smarmy, “No girlfriend to bail you out this time?”
Billy grits his teeth, remembering the first time Fran bailed him out for drunk driving. They take care of each other. It’s what they do. And it kills him that, this time, he doesn’t know how.
“Chief around?” he mumbles after he’s been questioned and left with a strike in his license.
“On his lunch break,” Callahan replies.
Great. Fuck knows how long that could last. He leans back in his seat, knee bouncing as he tips his head and blows out a long, ragged breath.
“Don’t think he’ll be too impressed to find you here again. You wanna date the chief’s daughter, you better stop being a delinquent.”
He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I need to talk to him. Can you call him in?”
“No need. You’re all done here, as long as you pay the fine in the next two weeks. Another strike on your license, and it’s gone. You hear me?”
Thankfully, the station door opens and a heavy-footed Hopper struts in, a box of donuts in his hand and a bear claw in his mouth. Both are left on Flo’s desk when he catches sight of Billy. “Are you kidding me?”
“I need to talk to you in your office.”
“Oh, you’re gonna.” He glares and yanks Billy up by the collar, causing him to scowl. “Jesus Christ, what the hell does Fran see in you? What are you in for now?”
“Speeding,” Callahan supplies.
Another grumble as Hopper shoves him into his office. Billy waits until the door is closed, and then all his pent-up worry finally pours out of him. “Fran’s gone. She’s gone, chief, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to fucking d —”
“Woah, woah. Slow down. Fran’s gone where?”
“They took her.” His voice rises with panic, no matter how badly he tries to keep quiet. “Those guys in the white vans. The ones who were there that night…they took her. Said if I told anyone, I’d be dead and made it pretty damn clear the rest of my family would be, too. I wanted to go after her, but there were too many. There were too goddamn many.”
Hopper’s features turn grave in an instant. “When was this?”
“This morning. Around eight.”
His knuckles whiten, hands curling into fists. “You should have come to me sooner.”
“They’re watching me. What the hell was I supposed to do? They threatened my goddamn sister.”
Hopper pinches the bridge of his nose. “Alright. You’re right. We have to be careful about this.”
“But we can get her back, right? You know where they’d take her?”
“I have an idea, yeah.”
Billy blows out a breath of relief, still trembling all over. “So let’s go. Now.”
“We can’t just waltz in. We need a plan. I need…Jesus, I need to call Joyce. She can get us in, I’m sure.”
He knows nothing about Joyce’s place in all this, but any plan is better than playing sitting ducks. He runs a hand over his mouth, exhausted and desperate to get Fran back. “Do you think…would they hurt her?”
Hopper purses his lips as though he can’t bear to answer. Finally, his brows lower and he heads to the telephone on the desk. “No. They won’t hurt her. We won’t let them.”
Billy wants so badly to believe it.
***
An hour later, they’re at the gate of Hawkins Lab, Joyce and Hopper in the front seats. After a lengthy argument about Billy’s role in it all, he’s hiding on the floor of the back seat while they attempt to convince the guard that it’s urgent. Something about Will. A flashlight flits around the car and then the gates buzz. They’re in.
“You stay in the car,” Hopper rattles for the tenth time. “If they see you, they’ll know what’s going on.”
“Right, and they wouldn’t suspect you,” Billy retorts.
“They think they can control me. I let them think that. But you’re a livewire and you have no idea what we’re walking into here.”
“Because nobody tells me a damn thing.”
“Thank your lucky stars for it, kid. You don’t want to know. Trust me.”
“Just like Fran didn’t want to know?” It’s a low blow, especially now, but Billy is pissed off and he knows how badly it hurt Fran when she found out she was adopted. She’d come from the lab and hadn’t known it. Hadn’t known she was gifted at all until recently. She deserved better than that. She deserved the truth.
“I’m not arguing with you, Hargrove.” Hopper pops a cigarette in his mouth before ordering, “Just stay in the damn car.”
Joyce and Hopper get out, and Billy waits all of five minutes before impatience gets the better of him. He peers out of the window on all sides before sneaking out, weaving between the parked cars and behind the back of the building. Hopper is taking the long route, but Billy just needs Fran back. Now. He can’t sit by and wait and hope a small-town police chief and Joyce Byers can take on the group he saw this morning. No fucking way.
That’s why, when a guy dressed in a lab coat comes out of the back entrance by the dumpster, Billy wastes no time in knocking him out. Neil might be a piece of shit, but he’s taught him how to throw a decent punch. The scientist goes straight down, and Billy catches the door with his foot before it closes, bending over to yank off the coat. He finds a key card in the pocket and slips the coat on, licking his palm and slicking back his curls in the hopes it might make him look less like a Brat Pack teenager and more like a kidnapping, experimenting piece of shit.
The lab is bigger on the inside. He takes the stairwell in the corner of the building where he’s less likely to be spotted, finding a list signposted on each floor. He has no idea where Fran might be, until he’s breathless and finds the word subjects listed under the sixth level. He can’t even think about what it might mean, only that it’s the closest he’s come to feeling Fran since she was taken. So he smooths down his shirt, takes a deep breath, and steps into the corridor.
It’s grey-walled, with sad excuses for rainbows painted along every edge of it as though this could be anything but hell. He peers through each door and finds empty rooms — until the end one. There Fran is, curled on her side with her back to him. His heart leaps into his throat and he uses the key card to get in.
“Fran.”
She’s trembling, and he isn’t sure she’s even heard him at first. Not until she murmurs, “Go away. Go away. Go away.”
“Fran, angel.” He walks cautiously towards her, crouching but not daring to touch her yet. “It’s me. It’s Billy. Look at me.”
She stiffens finally and turns around, sitting up. She’s pale, bandaids on her elbows as though she’s had blood tests or IV drips inserted into her. Anger swirls in him. If they’ve used her as some damn lab-rat…
There are bruises, too. From the way they manhandled her, maybe. He hopes that’s all it’s from. If someone hurt her, he isn’t sure what he’ll do.
“Billy,” she whispers, her eyes becoming glossy as she wraps her arms around him. “Oh my god. Billy.”
“I’m here.” He tucks a curl behind her ear gently. “What did they do to you? What did they do, Fran? I swear to god, if they hurt you —”
“Tests. They did tests.” Her voice wobbles, so far removed from her usual cockiness and wit. It breaks his heart right down the middle. “I’ve been here before. I remember…”
“Let’s get you home, okay? You can tell me everything when I get you home.”
She nods, her chin wobbling. “I’m scared, Billy.”
“You don’t need to be scared. I’m here.”
She places a hand on his chest as though she can’t quite believe it, and his fingers curl around her elbows to help her up. Her legs are wobbly, eyes glazed.
And then the alarms go off.
“We need to go. They know we’re here.” He pulls her into him and they set off into a staggering run back down the blaring corridor. She’s barefoot, unsteady, but she’s in his arms and that’s all he can focus on. Footfalls echo behind him and he knows they’re close. Breathless sobs leave her as they skip down the stairs two at a time, back the way they came. He realises at the last minute that it isn’t a good idea and pulls her into the next corridor to take another flight of stairs. Somebody will have found the guy he knocked out by now and he can’t afford to run into whoever it was.
The lab gets busier the further down they get — but then Hopper and Joyce are there on the ground floor, relief written across their faces.
“Go!” Billy yells, urging them all out. They do, Hopper sprinting to the car ahead of them so he can unlock it. People are running onto the parking lot now — scientists, guards, people in suits like the ones from this morning, but they don’t know where the threat is, still bewildered, and it gives them the chance to get out.
Only the gates are closing. Billy pulls Fran into the backseat and Joyce collapse into the passenger. They don’t have time to fasten their seatbelts before they’re speeding away, and just in time before the gates close.
Billy chokes on his relief and focuses on Fran. Still pale, still shaking, still not her. “We’re going home now. We’re getting you home, okay? You’re safe.”
She shakes her head at the same time Hopper replies, “‘Fraid not. We need to get out of Hawkins. Are you okay sweetheart?”
“Yeah.” It’s an uncertain whisper.
“I left you on your own too damn much,” he mumbles. “Should’ve been there.”
“Yeah,” she repeats. She’s clutching Billy’s hand so tightly his skin is turning white, but he doesn’t care. He’s needed this all day. He can’t put into words just how much he’s needed it. He’s alone in the world without her, floating in an abyss, and he needs her. He needs her so damn much he aches.
He smooths down one of her knotted curls, his finger trailing down her cheek, her jaw. She gulps and closes her eyes, nestling into his chest.
“The two of you need to stay out of sight until we’re out of town,” Hopper says. “Get down.”
They do, cuddling up on the cab floor together. Billy can’t bring himself to let go. “Scared me so damn much, angel. Jesus.” He can still feel it pressing into him, that fear.
“I’m never going to be normal,” she replies, her voice cracking. “I’m never going to be me again.”
“You’re always gonna be you.” He squeezes her hand. He wants to rip the hospital gown off. It’s too harsh a reminder of what she’s faced. What he couldn’t save her from. “And I’m always gonna be here to make sure you remember it.”
Her eyes fall shut finally, and he’s never seen her look this small, this young. He wishes he could help her. Wishes there was a quick fix. But Fran will never need fixing. She just needs to be set free, and the world won’t let her.
“My fuckin’ angel, huh?” he murmurs, dragging his knuckle against her cheek again. “Always my angel.”
And he’d happily be her devil if she let him. He’d be anything for her. The fucking halo on her head. He doesn’t care as long as he’s hers.
“You shouldn’t be mixed up in this,” she says.
“Too bad,” he replies without missing a beat. “‘Cos I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. It’s you and me.”
She cups his jaw finally, resting her forehead against his chin. “Thank you for getting me out.”
“I was never gonna leave you, Fran. Never.” He kisses her forehead and then cradles her head against his shoulder, snuggling in this cramped, unknown space while the engine whirs beneath them. And he’s still terrified, but he’s not floating untethered anymore. She’s here, and it has to be enough until they figure out what comes next.
“Never,” he repeats, just to be sure she knows it.
